*** Aug 6, 2005 ***
There is darkness. There is pain. There is evil. These things I recognize because I am these things. I feel the movements of the trulls above me. It has been a long time and the trulls have built many things above me. It is a marvel that they have built.
I can feel the sprawl of their village...it reaches into the landscape like a hard scab that holds the flesh of the countryside together. I can feel the trulls of all kinds. The gentle innocents. The hard violent ones. Even the ancient ones like myself but younger...much younger. They are all trying to make a life in the scab.
Scabs heal. They slough off and become one more bit of dust in the earth. I am the dust. I am where all scabs end up. And I am awake again. I look farther into the land and see a closed hellmouth. I see madness, chaos and disbelief.
I am going to have fun here. The trulls do not remember, otherwise they would have kept the ancient places clean. They cannot imagine what will happen or they would still have champions and guardians in place. They will remember soon enough. I am awake and they are the ones who are sleeping.
***
Mrs. White's apartment had been converted weeks ago into an office. The phone lines and DSL connections were in place and the knick-knacks had been thinned down to a point where most people assumed the small apartment was a reception area.
Victor scratched his head at the tangle of wires behind the desk and the arcane symbols that Ian was typing on the screen. "Are you sure it will work okay? I don't know anything about how to fix these things...much less use them," said Victor.
Ian chuckled, "Come on, Victor, it's time for you to get wired! There's no shame in not knowing but I find it hard to believe that a guy as young as you hasn't had to use these since he was a kid in school."
Victor smiled uneasily. "I grew up in Europe, they aren't as advanced as the States," he lied. Ian had expressed this same sort of curiosity at Victor's discomfort before. Truth was, the technology scared Victor, and it was more obscure than black magic to him.
There was a quiet knock on the door. A young woman stood there in a white tee shirt that showed her midriff. Her tight black slacks accentuated her shapely legs, and the tiny nose stud drew attention to her very attractive face.
"Is this the place looking for the receptionist?" she asked.
Ian gracelessly stood up and tripped on the office chair rushing to greet her, but Victor deftly cut him off and extended a hand. "Pleased to meet you," he said, "My name is Victor. What's your name?"
"Henna," she said, "I am here about the job."
Ian was behind Victor making an ass of himself by waggling his eyebrows and winking at her, and she looked down in embarrassment. Victor stepped back and deliberately applied most of his 450 lbs to Ian's toes. He escorted her in and invited her to sit on the sofa where Ian hopped quickly to sit beside her.
The interview was short, and Henna was quick to assure Victor she knew about stocks, property management, computers, messages, and everything he was looking for. She had been working in the billing and customer service industry for her mother's online stocks business since she was 13. Even at 23, she was a veteran of managing volatile companies.
She left with a job, and Victor was quick to talk to Ian (who was trying to follow her out the door). "When are you going home?" asked Victor.
Ian opened his mouth and decided that he didn't want to push it. "Tonight," he replied.
***
That night there was a noise in the basement. A young figure of a girl walked slowly up the stairs. She looked around the corner from the basement stair and seeing the coast was clear, strolled out into the hallway. Her tight tee shirt was clean and white, and her dark slacks and tiny nose stud accentuated her best features.
She looked into the office and patted the electronic box. Its secrets were open to her, and she held her hand there for just a moment longer as information about the trulls of this new age flowed through her.
She smiled and closed her eyes. One bit of information interested her. Henna. A name, a phone number, a residence.
****
Henna walked around the small efficiency apartment in her workout bra and bicycle shorts. She had already slid the compact folding stair machine under the bed. She sat on the corner of the bed, drinking her spring water with one hand and clicked on the television with the other.
She was glad she had this great job. Now she could really get something accomplished. They had a sweet setup there, and she didn't think they would mind if she ran a small web business on their computer while she was doing work for them. It was only bandwidth and they had more than they needed.
She stopped flipping channels, and flipped back a couple of clicks. She had seen something that caught her eye. The channel looked like a cheesy horror flick from the 70's with huge crowds of cave people fleeing across the savannah from some unseen evil.
There were a few that stood their ground and huge misshapen horrors came and engulfed them. Henna wasn't sure why she was watching this particular program...it wasn't her usual fare of E! or VH1.
She thought it must have been the special effects. They were better than anything Lucasfilm ever produced. She didn't have a HDTV (she was saving up for it) but it was sharp and crisp.
Real. It seemed real. That was it totally. She set down the water and the remote. She approached the set and extended a hand. *This is crazy!* she thought. *This is like some sort of weird movie.*
As her fingers touched the screen and felt only hard glass, her skin stopped prickling. She breathed again (not realizing until just then she had been holding her breath). She stood up.
As she turned around, she saw the young girl sitting on the corner of the bed with the 3lb free weight in one hand and the bottle of water in the other. She smiled at her and dentist-white teeth flashed an evil smile.
Henna barely registered that she was seeing herself before the 3lb weight smacked her in the face, and she didn't get to see the end of the movie. Ever again.
The doppelganger stood over Henna's slim form, thankful that it would not have to clean up blood. Not that it minded cleaning up blood, it's just that lots of blood led to embarassing questions. She dragged the fit body into the bathroom and proceded to insert the real jewelry where only the appearance had been before. Over the next few hours the colorful tattoos faded from the tan skin and appeared on the skin of the clone.
She was a good one. The markings that made her unique had power. She especially liked the "sensual" rune on her lower back. It felt warm and sexy. The rings and baubles each held memories and skills. The ring in her belly button gave her knowledge of movements and combat. The stud in her nose told her stories of places and the thrulls that inhabited them.
The shamans had worn such things. Earplugs and tattoos of power made them unique and guarded their selves against the evil. But they were applied with care, with prayer and with protection. These little things were carelessly applied. They did not protect anything. That was a change it liked.
Tomorrow it would work. It would do menial things while it scouted around. The markings and decorations would disguise it as one of the thrulls. Even the sensitive ones would not know.
When it was time the others would come. Whole armies of them would come forth from the dust and swallow this scab.
Post to Twitter
Season Two: Aug 6 2005 - Jan 6 2006
Tarix stepped into her apartment, closing the door behind her.
Thule got up. “Good eveining Miss Tarix. How have you been?”
“Well, I’ve been fine.”
“Good,” Thule replied, walking up to the window. “Nice weather we are having, eh?”
“Thule, cut to the chase. Why are you here?”
“You know why I am here. I told you I’d come. So what is your anwser?”
“Do I want to join Order of Valor? That depends. I have some queries.”
Thule looked at her, expressionless. “Fire away,” he said and sat down on a nearby chair and gestured for Tarix to sit as well.
Tarix took her place on the couch. “Well, I was wondering. When I am recruited, what will be expected of me? What do I do?”
“Your job, being under my patronage, will be to be trained and learn as much as possible about the wonderful world of demons.” Thule said all this still expressionless.
*It seems as if he’s talking through a mask. No smirking no brows knitting? Maybe he’s the Demon-of-no-expressions.* “When will you tell me all about myself? Better yet how much do you know about me?”
“I know plenty about you and your family that I will be telling you when you are ready.”
Tarix became puzzled, “What do you mean, 'ready'?”
“Ready, as in ready to accept the truth. I shall prepare you for it.”
“But why can’t you just straight off tell me, right now?”
“Because you may not take in the truth. Weren’t you shocked when you found out you were a demon just days ago? How long did it take you to believe what you were?”
Tarix thought this over. *What Thule is saying does make sense. I mean it took me long sleepless nights and paranoid days to adjust to it. I’m not sure whether I am adjusted to it right now!*
“Ok, I accept your deal. I’m in.”
Thule got up. “Good." he then looked at his watch "Now I’ll see you one week from now, about 8am in the morning at this address.” He took out a card and gave it to Tarix.
She took the card and looked at it. “But I have a job to go to in the mornings, and why in a week.”
“Not any more. You will now be working under me. The organisation pays low for someone who is under a patronage, about $100 a week as allowance. Including accomodations. In a weeks time because I would need to make some preparations”
*preparations?* Then the other thing Thule had said took Tarix by surprised. She gaped at his. “$100. That’s more then what I earn right now!”
“Yes, you’ll be notified in a few days of the accomodation that is allocated to you.” Thule started to leave. “Remember, 8am, I'll be waiting.”
After this Thule left, leaving behind Tarix still holding the card.
Stir Crazy Secret Agent
WEDNESDAY, 17 AUGUST 2005 - noon
The mess hall was starkly utilitarian, with all the creature comforts of McDonald's combined with food of slightly better quality. Except for days when the head chef was angry, in which case the food quality hovered around that found on airlines, which was why everyone tried to stay on his good side. Today, Circe thought as she sat with Frank the Pug on her lap, was a very good day. As usual, she was there with the rest of the old crowd, save Galen, and was listening to Lucky describe what went on the night before. Lucky suddenly stopped as Galen approached, casually stole one of Circe’s fries, and sat down.
“Well, you’re certainly in a good mood,” Goethi remarked, picking up a glass of water and drinking deeply from it. At least it looked like water, although knowing him, it was really Vodka. The knowing smile on his face told Galen all he needed to know. “Your secret is safe with the four of us. To think, all of this time, we thought you were gay.”
There was a small chorus of laughter as Galen slowly shook his head before stealing another of Circe’s fries. He was hungry, damn it, and in a playful mood to boot. “Thankfully for me, there’s a lovely redhead out west who never thought that,” he replied. “You guys are worse than a sewing circle.”
“He’s just so nice to us when he’s horny,” Circe said sarcastically, slapping Galen’s hand as he went for yet another fry. “And get your own lunch rather than eating everyone else’s.”
“What? Can’t a man be in a good mood because he gets to go home?” Galen put a false innocent expression on his face, which none of the others were buying. They were visibly trying to contain their laughter. “Okay, so I don’t like the prospect of going back to work that much, but that’s life.” This time, they couldn’t contain their laughter.
Goethi slammed down his drink on the table. Even the little mascot, Frank, got in on the fun, letting out a little yip of excitement. As the laughter started to die down, Goethi said, “That’s why we like you, Griff. You’re a funny guy.”
“I’m a funny guy?” he asked with a serious expression. “Funny how? Like I’m some clown that’s here to amuse you? Tell me, what do you mean? How am I funny?”
Everyone stopped laughing, except for Circe, who doubled over in laughter and lost her grip on Frank. The little Pug darted under the table, and tried to crawl up into Lucky’s lap to reach his food. Circe eventually managed to get control of her emotions. “He’s just kidding, guys. Haven’t any of you ever seen Goodfellas?” Then she winked at Galen while retrieving Frank. “You’d better not think of doing like Tommy, and trying to make some kid dance.”
Galen started laughing again. “Had this guy going good, didn’t I?” The others joined in a little tentatively, beginning to wonder just how thin the line was between euphoria and insanity. Jocasta glanced around, and Galen felt her sending a telepathic message to him. Despite what Goethi says, we’re all glad to see you this happy again. Treat this woman right.
He nodded soberly before suddenly jumping up. “Well, have to go pack. Just wanted to say goodbye to the lot of you.” Someone – he didn’t remember who – started protesting that the flight was hours away. “No, really, I have to go,” he said, leaving them to gossip. In truth, the main thing he wanted to do was check on Lucky’s sources.
When he returned to his temporary quarters he found a small envelope on the floor. Picking it up and opening it he found a simple, handwritten note. It was an address for a free clinic in LA. Under the address was a letter and two numbers: X73.
Season Two: Aug 6 2005 - Jan 6 2006
“On it goes, X and oh’s, on it goes….” The chanting continued. Tarix found herself once again in front of the twin girls. This time the girls were playing a game of “x and oh’s”. It seemed that they each had a chalk in their hand and were drawing with it on the dark pavement, and they continued on chanting, “X and oh’s, on it goes….”
Tarix found her voice, “Hi….can I play…?”
The girls stopped chanting and looked up. “But you already played!” they replied.
Tarix looked at them, puzzled. “No I didn’t, I don’t remember playing with you girls.”
The girls were staring at her with their bright blue eyes. “You don’t remember, she doesn’t remember…” They started chanting this and got up and started to make circles around her.
Tarix felt herself getting dizzy looking at the girls going round and round. “Stop,” she gasped. “Please stop and let me play, please…”
The girls stopped at that. One was standing in front of Tarix, the other one behind her. “But you played, you had your turn,” said the twin in front of her.
“Yes and you lost,” replied the twin behind her. Tarix turned around to look at her and she right looked back. Then suddenly she screamed at her, “YOU LOST!”.
At that Tarix heard screaming behind her and she turned around to find the third twin being dragged away by the same creature.
“Hold on!” Tarix screamed and tried to run after her, but all the time she felt the distance between the girl and her increasing. “Hold on!”
And all the while a haunting voice of a child echoed, “You lost….you lost!”
Tarix awoke with a start. This time the dream had been different, and this time she had been less scared and but she had felt a more feeling of hopelessness surround her. She found out that she had woken up because she had felt a sharp pain rise in her stomach. She got up from her bed - the sheets were soaked in perspiration - and went out of her apartment and down to the bathroom shared by the rest of the tenants on the floor.
She turned on the lights and went in the cockroach-infected toilette. She turned on the tap to let the cold murky water out and splashed it in her face. Even though the water tasted like it had a poisonous content of some kind of metal in it, it was still refreshing to her face.
Tarix realized that the pain in her stomach hadn’t faded away yet. She took one of her hands and put it on her stomach in the process of soothing it. Her fingers felt a certain scar on her belly button. *Strange, I never noticed this before.* She lifted the shirt of her PJ’s and looked at her belly button through the mirror. Even though the mirror was dusty, with spider weds and rust marks all around it, she could still make out the scar on her belly button.
It seemed that out of her belly button there were four short scar-lines, each pointing in different directions. They were placed around her belly button. Tarix looked at it - she recognized something about the scar. At closer inspection the truth hit her as if someone had pushed her in icy cold water. As if someone had planted a symbol like a multiple sign right on top of her belly button, the scar on her belly was in the exact shape of a small cross.
Season Two: Aug 6 2005 - Jan 6 2006
***Wednesday, August 17, 2005 -- 5:00 p.m.***
Marvels resided in the block occupied by African Heart gallery. Situated in the middle of Wallis, a side street parallel to Crenshaw, its location was perfect. All around was the flavor of the Community, but it wasn’t so far into the “hood” that a Betsy Windom would fear her for her life acquiring that Senegalese totem the corner of her foyer was absolutely screaming for. Chinaka hated to admit it, but Parasol had been right. The location was inspired.
Two doors down on the far corner was Hairanoia, a beauty parlor and supply shop, owned and operated by Sangi. Sangi started out like her mother had, as a kitchen beautician, beating into submission the hair of friends and family. Business boomed. One thing women, and especially African American women will do, it’s their hair.
Next to Sangi’s place was Classy Tips, a nail shop run by David, a tall, muscular, Vietnamese man of indeterminate age. David was the rarest among men. He liked women. He liked everything about them. He was single, decidedly hetero, funny, and snarky. All that going for him, women liked him too. They would wait 5 deep just to have him minister to their hands for a half an hour. Their constant jabbering was music – yes music – to his ears. It relaxed him. Rare. He made a mint.
Next to African Heart on the other corner of the block was the coffee shop cum jazz club cum theatre called Lucretia Alice owned by Alex and Arris, 50-something identical twins originally from Mississippi. Both gay as a day in May, they always dressed the same and always very well. As nature’s clones, they most certainly proved that neither atheism nor domineering mothers made men gay. They asserted to anyone who’d listen that God made them that way.
Across the street was an African dance studio, owned by a scarf-wearing really hairy nature biscuit named Ayala, an incense shop owned by the irie and consistently stoned William and an African American memorabilia shop owned by the blond blue-eyed Loring. Loring’s only African American ancestor was his great grandmother, yet he had the walk, talk, attitude and anger of the very next African American man. It was quite disconcerting. Additionally, buying something from him came with an arduous history lesson. Even the most militant had “x”s in their eyes after one of his 30 minute “before I sell you this, you gotta know” lectures. However, he had several framed copies of the “Angela, Sister, You Are Welcome In This House” sign posted in windows all over New York City in the 1970s when Angela Davis was arrested for allegedly registering guns for a California prison escape. Lorne’s lectures were tiring, but for that kind of rare memorabilia -- it was worth it.
Like the rest of the shops on the block, African Heart stayed open late, at least until midnight. The marketplace required it, especially on the weekends. The block was constantly full of pedestrians. Wallis was a hang out street of the highest order, but not in an outside-the-liquor-store-bass-beating-from-the-rear-speakers-of-a-tricked-out-Exposition fashion. Sensitive and artistic types frequented the block.
Chinaka stood in the window by her creation “Passion,” admiring the street where her gallery stood and her MGB parked on the diagonal. She looked at her watch. The sun would be gone in about an hour, so Parasol would be here soon for her first day of work at the gallery. Chinaka was not looking forward to that. She busied herself with the lighting on the Annie Lees peppering the walls.
She had only spoken to Parasol a couple of times since their discussion the other night, and it was all peripheral stuff. Weather nice, outfit cute, hair fierce – that kind of stuff. It freaked her out just thinking about living with something that until a month ago she never believed existed. She didn’t sleep well, sure that at any moment she would roll over, feel ill-at-ease in her sleep, wake up and see that face that Parasol turned into leering over her body in bed, licking her lips, licking Chinaka’s neck, sinking her teeth into her and laughing. Chinaka shivered.
Her heart was somewhat torn. It was like finding out that your parents had some deep dark secret that you never knew about, like your mother had a kid before you conceived in the back of a GTO or your father did a nickel in the penitentiary. You still loved them, but jeez.
And it wasn’t like Chinaka knew all about this netherworld that apparently, and unbeknownst to the general public, inhabited earth. This was fairy-tale stuff, the oogly kind – Grimm fairy tales with witches and trolls and demons and vampires. So, how do you occupy the same space with someone whose whole raison d’etre was to kill and devour and come out of the whole thing fully souled and well on the path to heaven?
These were the questions that swirled around in her head: Was she supposed to wear turtlenecks, like, all the time? Was she supposed to lock her bedroom door at night? Why can’t vampires see a reflection? So then, since Parasol has no reflection, how does she put on make-up, which is, by the way, always perfect? Parasol may be dead as a doornail, but her face was always perfect. Why doesn’t she smell if she’s dead? Her breath, why doesn’t it smell? Why does she have normal responses, like embarrassment and crying, if she’s dead? If she’s such a soulless demon, why doesn’t she kill her family? If she cut her hair, would it grow back? And the hits just keep on coming.
Parasol wasn’t that forthcoming with much information, either. She seemed to think that just because they were related – and isn’t that a weird concept – Chinaka should just go on faith. Chinaka didn’t buy that. Can’t make a silk purse out of a sow’s ear – except of course, if you’re Betsy Johnson. Parasol was a vampire. Pure and simple. She drank the blood of the living to exist. Chinaka was living. The math seemed pretty clear to her, no matter how many assurances her mother gave. It was like living with a wolf.
Chinaka finished focusing the lights on the Annie Lees and came to a conclusion. She needed more information, and since Parasol was Miss No Share and her mother seemed to think that just because she said so it was okay, she’d have to do it herself.
“How” was the question. It’s not like you could go into a Barnes & Noble, head to the self-help section and find the book “Living With The Undead”, read it and the epiphany creeps over your shoulder into your ear telling you that that you’ve been doing things all wrong. Nope. For this you needed an expert – one who wouldn’t look at her like she was completely off her rails. She needed someone who knew that these things existed and how to deal with them.
**
Drew stood outside the art gallery for a moment, deciding whether to go in. While in Tahiti, he and Daye had gone to a couple of galleries and she had expressed an interest in purchasing some pieces for her place. He hadn't seen her for a while, but the last time that they had been together, Daye had seemed distracted and unhappy. Drew thought maybe a gift would cheer her up, especially one that might remind her of their wonderful trip. He'd called his mother to ask where he could find something, and she'd suggested a new gallery African Heart. If there was one thing his socialite mother was good at, it was finding just the right gift. She'd offered to come along, but Drew hadn't wanted the esteemed Mrs. Langley pumping him for information on his love life. Drew wanted Daye to meet his family, just not right now.
Drew considered all this as he pulled open the door to the gallery and strode inside. He entered a foreroom, with art lit and displayed all around. Drew approached a piece before him slowly, unsure of just what it was that he wanted to get. But then…
To his left, lit with a crystal clear key light, a framed print of a photograph immediately caught his attention. It made him not just smile but feel extraordinarily happy inside. There was something about the print. It was of a very dark skinned girl of about 8 or 9, dressed in a school uniform standing before a farmhouse and field barely holding an evidently wildly wriggling piglet. It seemed that her face couldn't contain the smile that crinkled her forehead and wrinkled her nose. You could nearly hear peals of laughter ringing off the child. The photo was captioned "Africa -- The Fifties -- Drum Magazine Cover Girl." Drew's face reflected the African child's joy just looking at it. She seemed to be giving him the wonder of childhood all over again. This... this… this picture… this feeling… was what he wanted for Daye.
The reaction Chinaka saw in the man was the same reaction everyone had looking at that photograph. That's why she put it in the sightline of the doorway. It rained happiness on her gallery. She walked up to the man and stood regarding the photo with him.
"She just makes you wanna go run play tag, doesn't she?"
Drew turned away from the photograph reluctantly at the sound of the voice interrupting his thoughts. Standing beside him was an attractive black woman, dressed in fashionable and expensive jeans and a top. The jeans were snug enough to display her ample curves, and Drew was man enough to both notice and appreciate. The woman wore a smile similar to his own as she studied the photograph. "Yes," he responded to her question, "yes, she does. I came in looking for a gift for a friend. I think this is just the thing."
Chinaka looked into a frank and open face and instantly liked it and the whole bunch of hunk of man it was attached to. *Damn! Girlfriend ? Boyfriend? Oh, well... still like him. Need friends; the living kind.*
"Wow! You're easy. And my kind of customer, may I add!" Chinaka exclaimed and was rewarded with a smile as big as the one for the girl in the photo. "I take it this is for your...?" Gone fishin’.
"My girlfriend." Drew liked saying that out loud. "Yes, it’s for my girlfriend. She’s been rather down lately and if she gets only a bit of the feeling I get from it…” The proprietress was examining him unabashedly with an eyebrow raised. If Drew didn’t know better, and he well might not, he’d guess she was flirting with him. If there were a pebble at his feet, he’d have scuffed it.
“Lucky girl to have a man who can appreciate art.” Chinaka continued looking him over. “Well,” she smiled, “my name is Chinaka. I own this little slice of LA,” and she stuck her hand out, “partly anyway, with my, um, aunt. Shall we gift wrap that…?”
“Drew. Drew Langley, and yes. Something festive?” and returned her firm handshake.
Chinaka was flirting but it was harmless. She didn’t steal other women’s men. Now she didn’t mind coming fast on the heels of the woman grabbing her purse and keys and stalking out the door; that she’d do. Besides, she was sure this man’s woman knew what she had and if she didn’t expect other women to look, well, then she was a fool. *Wait a minute! Langley?*
“Drew Langley? You wouldn’t happen to be related to Charis Langley?” Chinaka walked to the middle of the register island to wrap the print. Drew followed her to the counter.
Drew considered the far-reaching tendrils of his mother’s influence and was somewhat disappointed that this young lady’s opinion of him would now be colored by that same influence.
“Ah, yes, well she’s my mother. I take it you know her?”
So, The Good Mrs. Langley was this lovely man’s mother. Chinaka could now see the resemblance, though this man didn’t have the sharpness to his manner that his mother had. Chinaka pondered how best to appropriately express her feelings. She didn’t think it was a good idea to tell him that the last time she spoke to The Good Mrs. Langley, they spent five minutes in a quiet and pointed verbal cat-fight.
“As a matter of fact, I do know her. She’s on the Board of the Alyson Harris Community Center right around the corner. I give the kids art lessons there.” Chinaka looked up from wrapping the print to look squarely into Drew’s face. “Lovely woman. Last time we spoke, we… um… disagreed…”
Drew imagined this assured young woman in a “disagreement” with his mother and wondered how he could purchase tickets for the next one. He liked Chinaka before but he now admired her for her tact tempered by honesty. His mother obviously respected Chinaka as well, otherwise she would not have sent him here.
“Yeah, well my mother has very clear ideas about what’s the correct shade of right and wrong. But she thinks highly you. She’s the one who suggested I come here.”
Chinaka finished wrapping the print with a ribbon of kinte cloth and felt a little guilty for her snide “Good Mrs. Langley” thoughts. Chinaka had a certain amount of respect for Mrs. Langley too – at least she wasn’t a mealy-mouthed fence sitter like some of the other socialites on the Board of the Center. Come to think of it, hadn’t Mrs. Langley mentioned that her son was a professor of the supernatural or something like that? She had actually said it with an almost imperceptible amount of disdain, but that wasn’t something she was going to share with Drew.
Chinaka put the print on the counter and rang up the sale. Drew exchanged with her his credit card, waited while it ran and signed the slip. Chinaka didn’t know how to go down the conversational path she wanted to travel with Drew. When Chinaka was in doubt, though, she always thought the best way to proceed was straight ahead.
“She said you worked in the supernatural, occult, stuff like that. Is that true?” Chinaka walked around to the front of the island and stood in front of him.
Drew picked up the beautifully wrapped print, turned towards the door and considered how to answer this abrupt question. He was proud of what he did, but it didn’t always fly with those who hadn’t watched a clairvoyant rescue his woman, the witch, from a dream world where she was confabbing with her dead relatives who were annoyed at the real world.
“Yeah. [Insert Drew’s explanation, chock full of “…ometers” and “spectral such and such” and “theory of relatively” and “nth powers.” Stuff that left you sleeping and drooling on your desk.]
Chinaka frankly got a little bored listening to his explanation. It was so scientific that she doubted if Drew’d be able to get to the “my aunt isn’t really my aunt she’s my great great ad nauseum grandmother and she’s a vampire and we own the shop together and we live together and I’m scared she’s gonna eat me, even though I’ve known her all my life and she’s never been anything but great to me as a matter of fact she’s the one who taught me the appreciation of classic cars and clothes and music and she was the first to recognize my artistic abilities and had Mama put me in classes when I was, like, five but I’m still scared because blood is how she’s existed for over 170 years and I’m just full of blood” issue. Chinaka decided to wait until she knew the man better, which she was definitely going to do. There was something familiar – very familiar about him. She imagined him riding to her rescue.
Drew finished up his explanation and was tickled enough at her eyes to laugh out loud. He wanted Daye to meet this woman, mostly because he liked Chinaka and wanted to get to know her better. He thought Daye would get a kick out of her too and would perhaps appreciate knowing someone who was ignorant of all the netherworld occurrences that lately seemed to inhabit all of her existence. Drew reached into his breast pocket and handed Chinaka his card and thanked her for the lovely gift and headed for the door.
Chinaka appreciated his long-legged, somewhat bow-legged gait to the door and said, “Thanks for coming and buying. Tell your friends about us here. And tell your mom I said hi,” and snorted at her last little bit of snarkishness. *Now that’s a great guy. I’ll save the horror for another time.*
Drew stopped before opening the door to the gallery and turned to Chinaka standing at the counter looking down at his card, clicking it between her fingers. Of course! That’s how he could get Daye to meet this lovely young woman. “Hey, what are you doing this Saturday night?”
Chinaka looked up warily. This was one of the good guys. He wasn’t going to dash her illusions and ask her out when he already had a girlfriend, was he? She’d go out with him, of course, because she wanted to know him better and then there was the whole he has the information thing and he was gorgeous. “Nothing. Why?”
“Because Daye, that’s my girlfriend, is having a party and I’m sure she wouldn’t mind if I invited you. I’d really like you to meet her and her friends. Bring a date.” He stood in the doorway, arms akimbo, looking at her with a smile and the sincere invitation in his eyes.
Chinaka cocked her head to the side and smiled at back at him. “No date, but is it okay if I bring my Auntie? She’s my age, sorta, and reasonably well behaved. I’d like you to meet her.”
“Sure.” He headed back into the gallery to the island. Taking his card back from her, he turned it over, grabbed a pen from behind the counter and started writing on it. “Here’s the address. It’s at her bookstore Bibliophile. Starts at 8:00, I think.”
Chinaka shook his offered hand and watched as he smiled, turned and strode out of her gallery. He’d help her. If he couldn’t, perhaps he knew who could.
Research
******Wednesday, August 17th 2005 – 8:20am******
Ernie had been busy typing up his report of last night’s events for the past three hours now. Surveillance work always brought out the insomniac in him, especially when things began to get interesting like last night. He’d already submitted a few sketchy details regarding the ‘visitors’ to Central Office, now he was listening intently to last night’s tapes, re-reading the notes and visual records while trying to piece together exactly what had occurred at the witch’s house almost twelve hours ago.
A second computer received the direct feed from Central. The printer spewed out an endless stream of paper as the latest reports came back from Majestic’s Research Team. There appeared to be an almost endless supply of info on the woman ‘Tash’/ Natasha Brookes. As of yet very little could be found on this ‘Victor’ guy – in fact since neither Sebastian or Ernest had seen ‘Victor’ exit the house, one could only assume that he was still there.
Of course Seb had his theories. The most ludicrous and depraved being that the girl had him tied up somewhere as her own private sex slave for when Griffin was out of town. “Lord knows I wouldn’t mind that job!” Seb had laughed, “Keep our Sabrina’s engine running, give her a gooood servicing, eh, eh, eh.” It was all Ernie could do not to punch his lights out. Thank god Seb’s shift had come to an end in the early hours of the morning.
”Briiiing, briiiing ……. Briiiing, briiiiing…”
Ernie halted his typing and grabbed his headset as the tape machine clicked on. He felt completely disoriented after having moved location. But it never paid to stay in the same place too long. Besides, in the last 24 hours the operation had been expanded requiring more equipment, ergo, a larger, more permanent location.
It ‘just happened’ that one of the local residents had recently died, leaving their home vacant. It was a stroke of luck, Earnest thought, that it also ‘just happened’ to be on the opposite side of the street from the Wiccham house and in such a proximity that, as Seb had so excitedly testified, “I practically see straight into her living room!!” Still Earnest didn’t like to question this so-called ‘stroke of luck’. He knew better than to ask questions when he didn’t care to know the truth.
The telephone continued to ring. Ernie was beginning to wonder whether Kate was ever going to answer it. Suddenly he heard a tired moan followed by a series of groans and sighs, then the sound of something being knocked over as she stumbled around the room.
******
Kate grabbed her robe and pulled it over her almost naked - except for Galen’s shirt - body. In her haste she knocked over the remaining glass of wine from the previous night. Pausing only momentarily to curse and mutter while throwing a towel on to the floor to soak up the rapidly increasing wet patch, Kate bound down the stairs two at a time.
She groaned in irritation as she heard the answer phone click on. As she hit the bottom stair the last strains of a message were just audible.
“….me a ring when you get this message…. You have the number, thanks, b….”
Kate snatched up the handset, “Hello! Hello? I’m here…” she called down the line, receiving no reply other than the dial tone. She sighed in annoyance and replaced the handset before pressing ‘play’ on the answer machine.
….’BEEP, BEEEEEEEP’ “…..Hi Kate it’s Jess, um, I was wondering if you wanted to get together sometime and try out some spells like we planned…. OH! And Ellie’s here, you know? My Slayer-in-waiting? And Will’s still here too, I know he’d like to see you before he has to go back to England… well um, give me a ring when you get this message…. You have the number, thanks, bye!….”
Kate smiled to herself as she began to re-dial the number…
******
Ernie slung the headset off and took a swig from the bottle of Pepto Bismal on the counter. All this surveillance work was playing havoc with his ulcer. He turned up the microphone volume in the house, hearing the regular fumblings of someone getting dressed.
*Slayer-in-waiting… * he thought to himself as he returned to his report and resumed typing. That was another query he would have to submit to Central. One thing was for sure though, this Kate certainly kept ‘interesting’ company…
Season Two: Aug 6 2005 - Jan 6 2006
******Wednesday, August 17th 2005 – 12:30pm******
Jess had just finished typing up some work on her computer when she heard a knock at the door. “Will, Ellie - can one of you get that please?” she called out from her small office.
Ellie ignored Jess and continued playing her guitar, as she had been doing most of the day, stuck inside with a broken nose and bruised body. Will went to open the door and saw a familiar face waiting. “Catherine,” he said, slightly surprised and off-put by what she held in her hands.
Kate laughed and hit Will playfully on the arm. "No need to look so afraid William!" beamed Kate as he led her inside. She dropped the large, dusty spell book on a table and gave him a hug. "I've improved a lot since we last met. It has been a few years you know." Kate stood back to take a good look at him. "Well, well, guess I can't call you my friend's geeky older brother any more," Kate laughed again, "When did you become a man Will?"
“Ah thanks a lot, Kate.” Will grinned slightly as he hugged her back. He and Kate had always shared a ‘special’ kind of friendship; she teased him at every opportunity and he pretended to be critical of her ability as a witch. Will had always had a soft spot for his little sister’s friend. He knew that beneath that light-hearted and playful façade was a woman who had seen more than her fair share of heartache. And despite all that she still managed to put others ahead of herself, like Jess with Ellie. Right now he was very proud of his sister’s determination.
As they parted he looked up to see Jess walking towards them.
“Hi Kate, how are you?”
"Hi Jess," smiled Kate warmly, "So, where's the 'Chosen One' in-waiting?"
“Ah, she would be in her room, she had a little ‘run in’ with someone. I’ll see if she’ll come say hello.” With that Jess walked in the direction of Ellie’s room and knocked on the door. After a minute or so she returned with the battered Ellie in tow.
Ellie scowled slightly, she'd just been making progress with that E-flat, diminished ninth when Jess had called her away.
"Ellie, this is my good friend Catherine Wiccham, Kate this is my slayer-in-waiting Eleanor Wyatt."
“Ellie,” grunted Ellie, looking down at her feet grumpily. She still felt sore from last night, more than just physically hurt, she felt kind of humiliated too.
"That looks painful," said Kate gesturing towards Ellie's broken nose. "Maybe we can get you patched up?" She glanced at Will and grinned, "what do you say Will? For old times-sake? Let Jess and I work a bit of magic..."
Will’s expression became worried once again as he looked to Kate. “What? You may be better than before, but last time… I really don’t want a repeat of that.”
"Oh William, don't be such a stick-in-the-mud.” Kate laughed again, “Siblings, always trying to spoil your fun, even when they aren't your own."
Ellie laughed out loud as Will grew red. William sat down on the sofa across the room but watched warily as Kate shook her hands in the air, loosening up her fingers. He almost couldn't bear to look. Kate breathed steadily, concentrating, focusing.
Ellie looked a little nervous especially when this witch woman's fingertips began to glow. "Erm, maybe Will, I mean Mr. Travers is right... my nose it doesn't hurt so much anyway..."
"Don't be frightened," said Kate calmly.
"I'm NOT frightened!" whined Ellie indignantly.
"Then keep still," ordered Kate. She moved her hands swiftly over Ellie's nose, close but not touching. Ellie looked down at her nose, her eyes getting crossed as she watched the glow from Kate's hands increase, and she could feel a slight tingling sensation across her face... it felt warm and soothing.
Kate moved her fingers adeptly, carefully, just skimming the surface of Ellie’s flesh with the lightest touch. Gradually the glow began to fade, and after almost ten minutes had passed she removed her hands and smiled. "There," she said in satisfaction, she gave Ellie's nose a tweak. "Better?"
“Hey!” Ellie protested as Kate tweaked her nose. She looked up at Kate then smiled as she noticed the pain had gone. “That’s so cool!” She replied brightly then finally remembering what was left of her manners said, “Thanks.”
Will rose from his chair and wandered over to Ellie, "Wow, you have improved, I thought she was gonna end up with a carrot for a nose or something."
Kate rolled her eyes in annoyance. "Watch it Bill or we might be calling you Henny Penny again." Kate turned to Jess, "So, you want to get started?"
“Sure,” Jess grinned before punching Will playfully in the arm. “You sure you don’t wanna go hide down the bar?”
“Um, I’m okay. I hear the kitchen makes good cover from ‘sisters’ trying to turn you into animals. Should I grab a rain coat too?”
"Oh very funny William, I see being a watcher hasn't improved your sense of humour!" she called out as Will made his escape into the kitchen. Kate and Jess laughed as Will hurried away. "Some things never change huh?" giggled Kate, "So, where'd you want to start? I found some interesting spells you might want to try - they aren't too complicated."
Jess smiled, “That sounds good; I haven’t been in practice much lately.
Jess watched as Kate ran around the apartment gathering various items here and there. Herbs and spices from the kitchen, plants from the window boxes on the veranda and an array of Jess' own magical supplies.
Because Jess didn't own a cauldron Kate had to use a cast iron saucepan instead, but it would work just as well. Kate read instructions from the spell book and allowed Jess to mix the powerful potion together. Soon the living room was filled with a thick cloud of dark blue and green smoke. The saucepan bubbled over the combined heat of several candles infusing a scent of cinnamon, cumin, violet and oak around the room.
Ellie peered out of her room, watching the scene. This was more interesting than E-Flat, diminished ninth - magic was cool, way cool.
Kate removed her long, 10-inch quartz wand from within her coat and handed it to Jess. Jess added a few bay leaves to the brew and stirred everything with the tip of the wand. The pure crystal made the potion glow a deep purple colour and the scent of violets became overpowering.
Dark smoke curled from the fire and Kate smiled in approval. "That's great, did you get something to use for the amulet? Something you can wear is probably best."
Jess took the cross necklace off of her neck and placed it in her hand. “Will this do?”
"That'll work just fine," said Kate. She flipped the page over as Jess dropped the cross into the bubbling liquid. The brim glowed silver for a moment before dying down. Kate handed the book over to Jess, pointing to the incantation. "Place your hands over the caul... er, pan, and visualise all your energy flowing into the palms of your hands." When Kate could see that Jess was ready she continued. "Now read the words out loud, and as you say each word imagine the energy growing and gathering strength from the surrounding energies."
Jess did what Kate had instructed and read the words out loud imaging the energies as she spoke: “Let the object of selection Become that of protection Hayagriva, lend your power In the Witching Hour.”
The potion shone brightly cascading a torrent of light into the room. From her hiding place Ellie shielded her eyes from the light, and Will came running back into the living room to see what was going on. In a bright flash the light vanished, the potion evaporated and all that remained was the silver cross at the bottom of the pan.
"WOW!" said Ellie, falling out of the door. "That was way cool!"
Jess fumbled for the necklace in the pan. "Careful," warned Kate, "it'll be hot."
Jess pulled back and waited a minute for the cross to cool before picking it up. “That was impressive, but did it work?” She then turned to see Ellie standing near her door an amazed expression on her face.
"It should have worked," said Kate looking at the necklace carefully. The silver seemed to glow with an inner radiance. "But protection amulets are difficult to test, apart from, you know? Getting into a dangerous situation and testing it out." Kate handed the necklace to Will. "Urm, just hold this for a moment won't you?"
Will took the cross and held it by the chain. Kate directed him to the other side of the room and told him to hold the amulet at arms length. Kate held her hand out in front of her, concentrating, a ball of yellow light grew in the palm of her hand. ”Sera… Lumen…”
Will grew nervous as he realised what Kate was about to do, "Urm, Catherine, no, I don't think we should test it this way!"
His protests were too late as Kate projected her arm forward and shot the ball of electric light at Will. He screwed up his eyes and let out a tiny yelp as the blaze grew closer. Suddenly the cross illuminated, absorbing the light until it vanished. Slowly Will opened his eyes.
"I'd say that worked," smiled Kate with satisfaction. "So what do you think Ellie? This might keep you out of trouble until Jess has trained you into an efficient vampire slaying machine."
Ellie grinned wildly. “You so have to teach me that!”
Jess took the necklace out of Will’s hand and handed it to Ellie. “Hmm, I’m not sure a protection amulet will stop her starting fights though.” She paused for a second then continued, “You take care of that.”
“Sure and thanks,” Ellie muttered as she took the necklace.
“You know this is the first time I’ve seen you smile, Ellie.” Jess smiled and Ellie just nodded.
Kate glanced at Will, sensing that they might have just been witnesses to the start of the ‘thaw’. "Well, that’s the formal stuff over with, how about we have a bit of fun…?” Kate thumbed through the spell book carefully, slowly a smile crept across her face and she glanced upwards.
Will frowned and knelt down to read the page. ’Conjuring’. He straightened up, looking a little ill. “Oh boy.”
drew gives daye the gift.
***** Wednesday, August 17, 2005 7:30 pm *****
Drew put the finishing touches on an elegantly set table in Daye’s dining room. The dark linen tablecloth matched the elegantly arranged napkins and the table was set with fine china and crystal. The savory aroma of a spicy stir fry wafted in from the kitchen and soft music filtered in from the stereo in the living room. Drew brought the flickering flame of his lighter to the wicks of the tall taper candles in the center of the table and soon the room was lit only by the gentle glow of candlelight. As he moved towards the kitchen to check on the food, he heard Daye’s key turning in the lock. Drew hurried into the living room, wanting to greet Daye there.
Daye opened the front door and stepped inside. She was greeted by the savory aroma of something cooking. Smiling softly to herself, Daye placed the stack of papers she had carried inside on the hall table and moved into the living room to find Drew waiting for her.
Drew’s eyes lit with a hungry light when he caught sight of Daye entering the living room. She was dressed in a light, summery sundress. The thin straps on her shoulders left an expanse of creamy tan skin exposed, and the square neckline dipped low, revealing even more. The dress was a pale green, filmy fabric that swirled around her legs, stopping just above the knee. She wore heeled sandals in the same shade, and her legs were bare. Drew let his appreciation show in his smile as Daye moved closer to him.
“Hey, you,” Daye reached up to wrap her arms about Drew’s neck, snuggling up against his body.
“Hey yourself,” Drew’s voice had a husky tone to it as he ran his hands down the sides of Daye’s body.
Daye glanced around the living room, noting the lit candles, low lights, and soft music. “What’s all this for?” she asked, nuzzling Drew’s neck and nipping lightly at his jaw.
“For?” Drew repeated, his voice hitching. “It’s not for anything. I missed you. I wanted to do something nice for you.”
“Mmmmm,” Daye moaned throatily. She flicked her tongue out quickly, tasting Drew’s neck. “Well, this is nice,” she purred. “Very nice.”
Daye continued her leisurely exploration of Drew’s body, licking and nipping at his exposed skin. He growled low in his throat before stepping away from her and holding her at bay with an outstretched hand. “As nice as this is,” he began, “I actually cooked… am cooking. So, maybe we should pick this up again after dinner.”
Daye pouted prettily. “But…,” she protested. Drew shook his head emphatically. “I have a plan, honey,” he said. “Dinner first. Then a surprise. Then…”
Drew let his voice trail off suggestively. Daye’s eyes, already lit with an inner fire, sparkled mischievously at him.
“Mmmm, then,” she agreed, following as he led her into the dining room. “Drew,” she asked suddenly, stopping just within the room to stare at Drew’s handiwork, “is there something wrong?”
Drew shook his head. “No, everything’s fine,” he replied. “Just fine.”
Daye sat down, a bit perplexed. She studied the carefully set table and the flames dancing on the tips of the candles. “What’s going on?” she asked, concern in her tone. “Something is going on here.”
“Amanda, baby,” Drew took her face in his hands, “all that’s going on here is that I love you. I think maybe I forget sometimes to let you know how much.”
Daye shook her head. “I’m the one that’s been so busy, tired, and distracted lately…” she began.
“And I’m the one who hasn’t been nearly understanding enough,” Drew cut in. “But no more, that all ends tonight. I don’t want for you to think for one moment that I take for granted the wonder of having you in my life. I love you.”
Daye smiled, closing her eyes as he covered her mouth in a tender kiss. For the first time in ages, she felt just right.
Drew kissed Daye deeply, letting all his love and passion flow from that kiss. He wanted her, needed her, with a fire that was burning him up from the inside out. But Drew restrained himself, pulling back before he lost control. This night was about more than sex, more than his lust for this woman. It was about his love for her, his patience with her. He was bound and determined to prove to Daye that he really cared for and about her.
“Let’s eat,” Drew suggested, leaving to retrieve the food and returning a few minutes later. He carried a large serving dish in one hand and a bottle of wine in the other. Drew set the food down and sat down himself. He served up the stir fry and poured them both wine. Then he settled down to share the meal with the woman he loved.
“This is really lovely,” Daye said. She had watched Drew serving the food, loving the way he looked in the candlelight. His brown hair tumbled across his forehead, giving him a sexy, disheveled look. Daye itched to run her fingers through it, to climb up on his lap and kiss him senseless. He looked so serious and sweet. Daye decided to go along with his plans, no matter how much she suddenly wanted to be doing other things with him.
“Go ahead,” Drew urged, having filled her plate. “Tell me how you like it.”
Daye dragged her thoughts back to dinner and took a bite. The mixture of vegetables, nuts, and sauce was spicy and delicious. Daye made a soft sound of pleasure deep in her throat. “This is so good,” she said, continuing to eat.
Drew watched Daye. She chewed and swallowed, savoring each bite, her tongue darting out to catch a drip of sauce that had dribbled onto her lip. Drew felt his temperature rising at the sight. He mentally warned himself to stay in control. There would be time enough later for that sort of thing. For now, he was going to show Daye how special she was.
Daye and Drew ate the rest of the meal in silence, both brimming with sexual tension. Daye was shocked by her own reactions. Sitting a few feet away from Drew, she was filled with heat. It was like coming off of a fast she hadn’t realized she’d been on. When the meal was finally over, she nearly breathed an audible sigh of relief. Drew quickly cleared up the table and came back from the kitchen, carrying a brightly wrapped package. Daye was surprised yet again.
*What is going on with him?* she wondered. *I’ve been so short with him lately, and I stood him up the other night. I’m sure I don’t deserve a present. So, why am I getting one?*
Drew came to stand beside Daye’s chair and passed her the gift carefully. “Amanda,” he began, “I realize that maybe I don’t always let you know, but I love you very much. I’ve never been in love before, so maybe I don’t know all the right things to say or do. But I want our time together to be as good for you as it is for me.”
“Drew…” Daye’s eyes filled with tears at his tender words. Before she could continue, Drew shook his head, urging her to wait.
“No, let me finish, baby,” he said. “Recently, someone very wise pointed out to me that a woman needs to feel special in order to feel loved. I haven’t been making you feel special lately. I’ve been so worried about myself, my needs, that I’ve ignored yours. You have every right to your own life, your own friends, and your own time. I should have been more understanding lately, and I’m sorry. Between what happened in Ireland, and what’s been going on since you got back, well, you’ve had reason to be tired and even depressed. I want you to be happy.”
Daye was shocked by Drew’s words. Did he really feel like he’d let her down? Drew was a wonderful, understanding man. Daye hadn’t felt quite right for while, but it wasn’t his fault. She could clearly see now just how out of sorts she’d been, but she felt that whatever it was was finally behind her.
Drew placed his hand lightly on the gift. “This is something I found for you,” he said. “Something I hope will help you to feel happy. Open it.”
Daye’s gaze was swimming with unshed tears. Never had she felt so loved, so safe. Nodding, she carefully unwrapped the package. Inside, Daye found a lovely framed photograph. The picture was of a delightful child, laughing. Daye was filled with a sense of joy and wonder as she gazed into the child’s happy face. Turning to Drew, happy tears on her face, Daye hugged the gift to her chest.
“Do you like it?” Drew asked, anxiously. Daye was crying. Why was she crying?
“I love it,” Daye said, placing the picture on the table and standing up. She threw herself into Drew’s embrace. “It’s beautiful. Perfect. You’re perfect.”
Drew laughed softly. “Not quite perfect,” he replied. Daye reached up to place a hand on either side of his face. She brought his head down to her own and kissed him hungrily, pouring all her love and passion into the embrace. Drew matched her kiss, exploring her mouth with his own. Daye sighed against his lips. They stood in the dining room, their kisses growing more and more heated. Daye was rubbing her body against Drew’s and he was running his hands all over her. Finally, they parted for a breath, and Drew picked her up off the ground, eliciting a squeal. Drew carried Daye through the living room and deposited her on the bed.
Daye watched Drew, her gaze hungry as he gently undressed her and then quickly shed his own clothing. Within moments, he had her cradled in his embrace, his hands caressing her body while he rained kisses down on her face and neck. Beneath Drew’s tender touch, Daye’s body grew fevered. She arched against him, her breath escaping in a low moan. Drew’s breathing had grown ragged too. He murmured love words in between kisses, his need growing and overpowering his will. Finally, he tumbled Daye beneath him and joined their bodies. They rode the crests of their shared passion together, fast and hard.
After their lovemaking, Daye and Drew lay intertwined on her bed, their hearts racing and their breath coming in shallow gasps. Daye had her face buried in Drew’s shoulder, where she bestowed soft kisses. He felt her lips curl in a smile against his skin.
“What are you thinking?” Drew asked, moving so he could see Daye’s face. She wore a satisfied, yet devilish smile.
“That suddenly I feel under the weather,” Daye responded conspiratorially. “I don’t think I’ll make it in to the shop tomorrow.”
Drew laughed. “Really?” he slowly stroked Daye’s body. “Funny thing, I’m feeling a bit off myself. I’ll have to cancel my classes, I think. I wonder what would be the best treatment for this ailment we’re suddenly afflicted with.”
Daye’s eye’s darkened as she moved beneath Drew’s questing hand. “I… think… we should… stay… in bed… all day,” she gasped.
“A really good idea,” Drew agreed, capturing her mouth in a hot, wet kiss. Hours later, they each remembered to call out to work. On the cordless, of course, as they weren’t leaving the bed.
wyatt slips up
***** Wednesday, August 17, 2005 around 3 am *****
Wyatt sat on the floor of his apartment, humming to center himself. He was surrounded by candles and incense, the heady scent adding to the altered state of consciousness he had achieved with the opiates. A spent hypodermic needle and a vial sat beside him on the floor. Wyatt swayed slightly to the pounding drumbeat coming from his stereo as his mind entered Mariah’s plane. He had experimented for months before finding just the right combination of sound, scent, and drug to allow him to access this dream state without Mother Mariah’s awareness. If all went as he planned, Wyatt would be able to start to siphon some of that bitch’s power tonight. She was so arrogant, thinking he was a sheep like the rest, unaware of the others. As if Mariah could play him that way. Well, Wyatt would show her.
*****
Wyatt stood in a darkened corner of Mariah’s temple, watching her in repose. She lay upon the dais, her eyes shut, as she concentrated on someone, somewhere else in this twisted dream of hers. Wyatt loved to steal into her realm when she was unaware. It was a heady feeling, knowing he was gaining power in this relationship. When he had enough, he would enslave this little bitch and show her how he really used little girls. Mariah was the answer to all his fantasies, except she had too much control. Before she came into his life, Wyatt could find satisfaction with the girl-whores that huddled in the darkness of major cities all across this country, but it was a fleeting thing. The fucking in the dark alleys, and the pain he would inflict on them was only part of what made him really feel good. He wanted, no needed, to unleash his power and hunger on what Mariah represented, the sweet, innocent, upstanding children of Middle America. She had been just what he was looking for, the perfect fantasy, safe and as real as anything he’d ever found in the waking world.
Mariah was in charge here, though. That fact robbed Wyatt’s pleasure of its keenest edge. He needed to dominate her body and spirit. So, he began to search for a means to do so. Before long, Wyatt found what he was looking for, a book of metaphysics that dealt expressly with dreams had been his guide. Now, all the work, research, and training were going to pay off. Wyatt approached Mariah, sprawled on her dais. His body reacted to the sight of her, tightening with lust. Wyatt ignored it.
Wyatt hovered over Mariah’s sheer clad form, his breathing growing heavy. He reached out his hands and laid them upon her chest, sure she was too deep in someone’s dream to come out of it. He began to chant the spell to begin to drain her power. He gazed down at her form, animal hunger in his gaze. He felt a sudden rush of power come up from Mariah’s body and grinned wolfishly. Suddenly, Mariah’s eyes flew open and she gripped Wyatt by the wrists. He tried to pull away, his smile disappearing.
“Wyatt,” Mariah purred, a murderous gleam in her blue eyes. “Did you really think it would be that easy?”
Wyatt’s eyes grew round with horror as Mariah floated up off the bed. Her features seemed to melt, her skin darkening. She transformed and Wyatt screamed. Where Mariah had been, now stood a large, dark skinned man with big hands and a feral smile. Wyatt recognized him, of course. It was his mother’s “friend”, Ricky. Wyatt had killed this man, years ago, when he’d finally taken all he could. This man, his mother’s special friend, had been the one who’d hurt Wyatt as a child, forced him to do things he didn’t like, things that made him feel powerless and dirty. Wyatt had gone on a hunting trip with Ricky when he was 15. His mother had made him. Ricky took good care of her, gave her “good stuff” and never made her work the streets. The stupid bitch thought Ricky loved her. Ricky really just wanted to get to her pretty little boy.
Wyatt turned his head away from Ricky and saw that they were now standing in the woods. He recognized this place too. The camping trip, where Ricky had finally gone too far, forcing Wyatt to his knees and tearing him asunder. Ricky’s guttural groans and grunts had been as bad as the white hot pain inside Wyatt. When Ricky had finally finished with a hoarse, bestial cry, Wyatt had scrambled away from him, turned once to see the man kneeling there, his sex covered in blood. Wyatt had gone a bit mad. He’d jumped to his feet and tore out of the campsite, not knowing or caring where he was running to, only what he was running from. Ricky had come after, pulling up his pants and taking up the chase. Wyatt had heard him, hollering, roaring, but he didn’t care. He just wanted to run away.
Suddenly, Wyatt came to a precipice that tumbled down into a shallow chasm, the floor littered with tree branches and leaves. He skidded to a halt, and frantically searching, found a place to hide, just moments before Ricky came charging in. Ricky didn’t see the drop off in time. He went flying off the edge. Wyatt came slowly forward and peered over. Ricky lay at the bottom of the gorge, his leg twisted at a grotesque angle. Ricky bellowed at Wyatt to help. Wyatt was terrified. He looked around, and finally caught sight of a tree branch just a few feet away. It had a sharp, ragged point. A fever of an idea bubbled in young Wyatt’s brain. He grabbed the branch and carefully climbed down into the gorge. He stopped near Ricky, who was cursing him. Wyatt stood over the larger, older man, and deliberately, he plunged the branch into his body. Ricky’s eyes were wide with shock and fury. Wyatt sat a few feet away from him and waited, watching the bastard die.
Now, here Ricky stood, bigger and darker than ever, his massive hands gripping Wyatt. He smiled at Wyatt.
“There’s my boy,” Ricky growled. “Have you missed your uncle Ricky?”
Wyatt struggled, unable to speak. His horror grew as Ricky released one of his wrists and pulled a large, wicked looking needle from his coat. He gripped Wyatt’s arm more firmly, his large, white teeth shining in his black face. “Uncle Ricky’s got something for you,” he said, placing the tip of the needle against Wyatt’s skin.
Wyatt was mad with fear now. He writhed and kicked, to no avail. “Mariah! Ricky! Please!” he begged.
Ricky threw back his head and laughed. “Oh, Wyatt,” he said, plunging the needle into the man’s arm, “would you have shown me mercy? I don’t think so. You wanted power. Well, here it is!”
The needle plunged, and Wyatt’s veins were suddenly filled with fire. He was flying, soaring, and plunging towards the ground. Power, ultimate power, coursed through Wyatt’s body, and then suddenly, he hit the ground.
*****
Jane Lowell was a sweet old woman who managed a very expensive high rise in downtown L.A. Her tenants were always on time for the monthly tenant meeting. It was in their lease that they had to attend. So, when Wyatt Welsh failed to show up, Jane headed right over. She knocked, but no one answered, so she used her key. She just wanted to make sure the quiet young man was all right. That’s what she told the police between sobs when they asked for her statement. She didn’t know Wyatt all that well, but he was a good, quiet tenant. He never missed his rent, never threw loud parties, and never even brought any women around. Jane had no idea that he had a drug problem. How would she? Wyatt Welsh had been such a good, quiet tenant.
Season Two: Aug 6 2005 - Jan 6 2006
Wednesday morning 5AM
Xavier came out of the shower drying his back and found all three of his men sleeping in the living room. It had been a long night and even he had found it hard to stay awake. But Franky, he had sort of expected more from him. Xavier walked silently behind the confortable chair where Frank was sleeping. He quietly rolled the towel into a rattail and prepared to snap it on the back of Frank's head. "Do it and I'll give you the worst bruise on your naked black ass you've ever seen," said Frank, his eyes still closed.
That was the Frank Xavier knew. He always was watching, even when he didn't look like it. "Get the boys up and pack up this gear. Be careful with that circle and don't mess it up, I'm going to have Mick leave a little surprise for our prey."
Frank nodded and started waking Fred and Mick. Xavier dressed again and looked around the fine apartment. *Thanks for letting me get a glimpse of all the things I will never have, Demon. While you are out and likely eating some poor victim I am sleeping in your bed, showering in your shower and enjoying your hospitality. Once you are dead, I may even come back here and live out your lease just because I can.*
Mick and Frank packed up the huge gun and the electrified net. They carefully disassembled the blinding flashes and the wards and charms that would protect them from any magical energies that the demon might wield.
Xavier drew Mick aside. He laid out what he wanted and Mick nodded to demonstrate he could do it. He went over to the huge tackle box he used to store his spell casting gear and began to make the preparations in the circle.
Twenty minutes later Mick was exhausted, the gear was all packed and the four men exited the apartment. Xavier cuckled to himself quietly as he closed the door behind himself and made sure it was locked. *Yes, Demon, I'll find you again very soon.*
In the elevator, Frank's stomach started to rumble. Loudly. He didn't say anything, but as Xavier looked into his baby brothers eyes, he could tell that he was very hungry. They had not had anything to eat all day. "There's a Denny's not far from here; I'm buyin'," said Xavier, "Nothing to do at the moment except wait."
Season Two: Aug 6 2005 - Jan 6 2006
Tuesday, 16th August 2005 – 10:30pm
Victor unlocked the door for Tash and led her inside. She didn't complain about the assistance, but he could tell she resented the infirmity. Victor was surprised to see Sam sleeping on the couch. He looked at Tash, "Didn't I give him an apartment of his own?"
Tash bit her lip in embarrassment. "Oh. I forgot to mention." She looked at Victor, trying to get used to his new face. She dropped her voice to a whisper so as not to disturb Sam, "He was acting a little strange earlier - almost passed out. I took him to his place, but they only have one couch and Reah's not well, so..." she gestured to Sam's slumbering form, "here he is."
Tash cursed herself. Between the fuzziness in her brain from her injury and the shock of Victor's transformation, she'd forgotten that her flat wouldn't be as private as she'd hoped.
Victor furrowed his brow and clicked his tongue in thought, *You have an overbite. When did you pick up that habit? He has to know sooner or later.* "Should I wake him and tell him the truth? Let him know what happened?" Victor asked softly.
“I’m…” Sam said, his throat a crusty sandbox, “I’m awake.” He’d been staring through the motionless galaxies of dust while the dim room spiraled around him. He’d been like this for aeons, sleeping and sleepless in Los Angeles. “Tash? How long have I been here?”
Tash picked up the note on the coffee table that she'd left for Sam and crumpled it up. "Not long," she said. "How do you feel?" She was conscious of Victor standing behind her and wondered how Sam would take the news. She no longer sensed the irrational anger he'd exhibited earlier, but his essence felt as though it were made of glass. She cast a warning glace back at Victor, as if to say 'tread carefully'.
“I feel…” Sam’s head was an anvil. He couldn’t lift it from the pillow. “My ears are popping. I feel sick, kind of. Dizzy. What time is it?”
"Its about 10:30pm, Sam," said Victor. His voice sounded the same to him. He had no idea what it sounded like to others. Sam was still rubbing his eyes and had yet to really focus.
He heaved himself up and his neck popped, a slight hint of pain that vanished as his feet touched carpet. His toes were cold. Tash had removed his shoes. Where were his shoes? There was a soft light, the voice coming from it. No, the cold, calm voice was hidden beyond the glare. There, a dark figure stood motionless. Sam rubbed his eyes again. It sounded like Mr. Tek. Of course it was Mr. Tek.
That was bad. The boss.
“Oh, sir…I’m sorry,” Sam said, “I didn’t finish my work today. I got sick. Ta -Tash said it would be okay to lie down for a while. I’ll - I’ll get right back to work, I promise. I’ll work all night long.”
"It’s okay, Sam. I don't mind. I would rather you were well rested and feeling better than sick and working. Are you okay, do you need some time off? Things have been sort of hectic with this being your first month. But if you need the time, it will be all right." Victor could see Sam's skin temperature rising with stress. He tried to speak reassuringly, but he had found that Sam was usually intimidated by him. *Oh, you think he was intimidated before!*
“Thank you, sir. I appreciate the offer, but I can’t take time off. I need the money. My apartment doesn’t have furniture. A couch. We’ve got a couch.” Sam peered around the base of the lamp. His eyes adjusted. Mr. Tek looked different. It was the hair, maybe. It was shorter. “Did you get a haircut, sir?”
Tash sat on the couch next to Sam. His confusion was evident and she picked up his hand reassuringly, trying to soften the inevitable shock. "Sam, Victor does look a bit different to how you saw him last. Remember how I said he was in trouble? He's had to disguise himself..."
“Different?” Sam lifted a scab of sleep from under his left eye and wiped it on his shirt. Mr. Tek didn’t appear to be Mr. Tek at all. Sam stood, shedding Tash’s hand. Mr. Tek was shorter, better built. Sam took a step sideways. The lamp no longer separated them. A second step lifted the gloom from the boss’s face.
The man was black.
“Hokey smokes,” Sam said. “That’s the best mask I’ve ever seen.”
Even his hands.
"Sam. It’s not... exactly... a mask. Its more like a... um... hologram," he looked at Tash who shrugged, so he continued, "Yes. A hologram. Looks like something but isn't real."
“A hologram? Like in Star Trek? Wow.” Sam went to take another step, but an airborne tension nudged him back. He put his foot down. He looked to Tash for guidance. Something was up.
Tash sighed and stood as well. "Sam, I know you know that vampires are real. Well, magic is real, too. Neither Victor nor I know the first thing about magic, but we know people who do, and one of them helped us. The disguise is simply an outer shell." The fact that the form that shell covered was not the one Sam expected was not something Tash was about to mention. She eyed Victor up and down then turned back to Sam, "And believe me, it'll take a bit of getting used to," she said with a quirk.
Victor looked at Tash questioningly, "He knows about vampires?" He looked back at Sam, "You know about vampires?"
“I, uh—“ Too much at once to respond. So add magic to the list of things wrong with this city. Sam glanced down at his socks. It was strange. For the first time in days, he felt awake, a part of reality. NOT dreaming. Vampires and magic; finally they were talking stuff he understood.
“Yes, I know about monsters. I guess that means you do too… sir… Mr. Tek. I’m not surprised.” He returned his eyes to Victor’s new face. It was a kinder face, a little easier to stand up to. But it was too bad that the real Mr. Tek was hiding under a spell of mumbo jumbo. “You mean there’s no hologram?” Sam felt a little betrayed by the lie. Hi-tech stuff would have been cool.
Victor smiled. "Sorry, Sam. But I am sure you need to go to bed. You look beat. If you feel a need to work tomorrow then take it easy. Otherwise, take as much time as you need to recuperate." He stepped back to allow Sam to reach the door. *Nothing like a subtle hint.*
Tash made a moue. She knew Sam had no bed to sleep in, and he looked like he could use a few more hours. But she also needed some time with Victor, and not just for the files on Xavier. "Will you be okay on the couch with Reah? Or...” her head swivelled between the two men, “Victor, what about your flat? It's got beds..."
Victor didn't think about it two beats, "Certainly. But I moved those beds upstairs to the apartment on the third floor. I moved just about everything there when I made my flat into an office."
Victor walked over to Tash's desk and opened a drawer. He removed a ring of keys and handed a pair to Sam. "These are keys to that apartment. Take what you need until you can afford to replace it then put it back. No rush, I was planning to rent the apartment as furnished."
Sam pocketed the keys slowly, studying his boss’s masterful disguise. He really liked this new look. It was incredible to think Mr. Tek was hiding underneath a spell of some sort. He lacked the iron jaws and the gaze that once made Sam shrivel and need to do good. He seemed more like a ‘Victor’ now. Sam wondered what response he would elicit if he called his boss that - Victor.
“Thank you. I can’t tell you enough how… amazing you and Tash have been to me. Reah is going to be so happy.” They were going to have real furniture in their apartment.
Tash ushered Sam to the door, thankful that he hadn't asked more about the nature of Victor's 'disguise'. As he reached the hallway, Tash couldn't resist saying, "And I'm sorry we have no holodeck on the third floor. You'll just have to put up with the existence of mundane magic," she grinned.
“Yeah, that would have been neat,” Sam said. He didn’t like being shoved out of the apartment. He felt cheated again. By the time he slipped around her pushiness, he was standing in the hallway. He waved bye to Victor, but Tash’s head tilted to block his view.
Sam frowned, “So… do I get to learn magic, too? Nothing fancy. Mundane stuff will do. I mean, after I learn to kill monsters.”
Tash shook her head sadly. "I'm sorry. I know diddly squat about magic. It's all funny words and smelly potions to me."
“Mr. Tek?” Sam called out, trying to get his voice past Tash’s defences. “Do you know about magic? I really want to learn."
Victor shrugged, "I can't work a lick of it. But I know people who do. Ask Jade about it, she used to run a small magic shop and might be able to show you some simple... and safe... places to start."
That was good enough for Sam; Jade would be his guide. He faced Tash and took her hand with a short squeeze. “There just aren’t any more of you two in this city, are there?” he said. He gave his boss a grateful glance. With that he was off - down the hall. He felt satisfied with how this otherwise dreadful day had ended.
The solid floor hurt his feet. He’d forgotten his shoes in the apartment! Lord, he couldn’t go back now. You just don’t ruin a moment like that with “Hi again. Forgot my shoes.” He’d have to go back tomorrow.
Soon he was home. Reah had switched positions on their couch. Soundlessly, she slept. He sat down and touched her shoulder, but she didn’t move. He couldn’t pop in Reservoir Dogs. She needed rest.
“Darn,” he thought. “I’m wide awake.”
The keys Mr. Tek had given him were digging into his thigh. He touched them through his pants. A set of furniture awaited his busy hands. And Sam smiled.
Season Two: Aug 6 2005 - Jan 6 2006
Tuesday, 16th August 2005 – 11pm
The door closed with a soft 'click', blocking Tash's view of Sam's retreating back. She remained facing the door as she spoke to Victor, "I feel a bit bad about rushing him out like that. I hope he'll be all right, though he did seem a lot better."
She felt Victor move up behind her and wrap an arm around her waist. She looked down at it, trying not to be startled at how dark his skin was. *This is really going to take some getting used to,* she thought. She tilted her head back to get an upside-down view of his face and smiled, "But it'll be nice to have a little 'getting to know the new you' time."
"Not much I am afraid. I really should not be here. Who knows what the hunters are up to?" Victor kissed her, "But you have some information for me, and I can look at that, then reassess the threat."
The two of them walked back to the couch where Sam had been sleeping. His shoes were set neatly next to the couch. Victor pointed to them, "I guess we rushed him out faster than we thought." He picked them up and set them next to the door. "He'll come back and get them when he gets a chance."
Tash resisted the urge to dash out with the shoes and find Sam. Instead, she pulled the disk and envelope from her pockets and sat on the couch with Victor. The couch didn't seem to creak and complain about his weight any more, she noticed.
She sat the disk on the coffee table and waved the envelope. "This is the info that Sorrow extracted from his files." She held it out for Victor, looking into eyes that were brown now rather than blue, but she could still see Victor in them. "But please say you don't have to rush off right away," she put more than a hint of suggestion in her voice.
Victor pulled out the sheets of paper from the envelope. He looked at the disk with disdain while doing it. "Is everything here?" he said waving the sheaf of paper. Her assent was enough. He pushed the disk back towards her. "Best destroy that. I don't want to leave more of a trail than I need to." He thumbed through the sheets rapidly scanning each page.
Then he handed her the sheets as well. "Okay, that should give me some help. He has the ordinance and the experience to do a lot of damage to me, but he has hunted primarily ferals. He won't really be expecting something like me. Although he has hunted a few intelligent demons, I'd like to think I'm different.”
Tash started to bite her lip and winced at the bruise she found there from all the lip-biting she'd been doing recently. "I hope you're right." She picked up his hand and stroked it absently, "I hope you're right," she repeated. She'd already expressed all her fears and worries to Victor - he didn’t need to hear them again. "At least now that you look different it should throw him off for a while." She said it as much to comfort herself as for him.
"If it will help, I can show you why." Tash scooted closer and gripped Victor's hand as he laid out Sorrow's notes.
Victor smiled at her. "See here, Xavier has had over 30 squires in the last eight years. That means he is careless with his people. This squire Frank, however, has been with him the entire time so he has significance for Xavier. It does not say what that significance might be but that is a weakness I can exploit."
Victor sifted through the pages until he found the hunt request that Xavier filed with the Huntmaster (presumably Sorrow). "Look at this one, it is filed the day after we met Sorrow the first time. It was denied because of an interdiction on hunting in L.A. Sorrow must have locked down the city during the Cloch Cosan craziness. This guy wants me bad." Victor sorted through the papers a last time pulling out a thick, stapled sheaf. "This is his kill list," Victor said flipping to the last few pages, "See? A Class-A threat in Africa, a Class-A threat in Brazil, and then a series of Class B or lower threats all over the world. He is only here because I am apparently a Class-A threat in the Society Database."
Tash looked at Victor with some exasperation. "And that's supposed to be comforting? I just..." she shook her head. "You sit there and calmly tell me that this guy wants to mount your head on his wall, and I know you're highly capable, but if he succeeds..." Her voice caught for a second and she swallowed before continuing, "And I feel so damn useless just sitting here waiting to see if you're going to die or whether you're going to bolster Vrithetek by killing this guy, and now we've got a few scant moments together and I want to make the most of them, but all you can do is tell me how badly the Society wants you dead." Her tirade petered out and she simply stared at Victor, her hands clenched in her lap.
Victor wrapped his arm around her and pulled her into his lap. He stroked her head and shushed her fears. "If I thought you would kill a human then I would ask you to help. But that is the only way this can end. He has to die. There will be no revenge and there will be no retribution. It will all go away with his life. I am protecting you from that kind of horror as much as the danger this guy presents."
Victor turned her face to his. "I love you and want to calm your fears. I want you to not think about this nastiness, instead think of it as a business trip. If I don't come home, then it was an airline crash or something over which you had no control." He watched her tears well in her eyes. "That won't work will it? Then do what you have to because it will not go away."
Tash rested her head on his shoulder. "I know, love. I know it won't go away." She breathed in his unfamiliar scent. "And I'm sorry - I hate to sound like an hysterical woman. It's mostly that I hate not being able to do anything." She kissed the side of his neck lightly. "But you're right, of course. There's nothing I can do that I won't angst over for years to come." She sat up and punched him lightly in the chest, "But you'd better not bloody die on me, Mister!"
Victor laughed. "Not part of the plan, and you know how closely I follow my plans!"
"Hmm, like the plan to get yourself tortured by Kain?" Tash made a wry face. "Well, I suppose that was successful, really, so yes you do." She grinned and settled herself astride Victor, trailing a gloved finger down one cheek, "And do you think you might come up with some other plans before you have to race off again?"
*You've been avoiding the bitch because she uses sex to avoid the tough issues.*
"I can stay a little while. But we have to be careful. We are both new with this body, some things might be different."
*I'll be gentle, will she?* But it was a tender thought and Tash must have picked up on that because she smiled.
“We can take it slow. I know it’s been… odd… lately." She frowned slightly. For some reason she was reluctant to think about this, but she forced herself to analyse it. "It's like I’ve had some animal instinct driving me on. But not tonight, love. Tonight it feels... like it was before."
She smiled tenderly, "I'm sorry. I feel like I've been using you." Her frown deepened. "Oh, God, I really have, haven't I? I'd hunt and come home to you and..."
"Shh. Don't fret about it. You and I are different in more ways than anyone can count. But we are alike in the ways that it matters. We love each other. And we watch out for each other."
As Victor picked her up and carried her into the bedroom he sang to her, something he had never done before:
Somewhere deep inside Something's got a hold on you
And it's pushing me aside
See it stretch on forever
I know I'm right
For the first time in my life
That's why I tell you
You'd better be home soon
Stripping back the coats
Of lies and deception
Back to nothingness
Like a week in the desert
I know I'm right
For the first time in my life
That's why I tell you
You'd better be home soon
So don't say no, don't say nothing's wrong
'Cause when you get back home maybe I'll be gone
When the nights go down
When you've had your fill
When there's nothing left
It would cause me pain
If we were to end it
But I could start again
You can depend on it
I know I'm right
For the first time in my life
That's why I tell you
You'd better be home soon
That's why I tell you
You'd better be home soon.
He undressed while singing and climbed into the bed, which did not sink and pull dangerously as usual. He kissed her and said, "I think we are both home now."
Tash tried to smile. She could tell Victor was trying to reassure her. But some of the lyrics of that song haunted her. "I hope we are. Has it really been that bad for you? No, don't answer. Obviously it has..." Her voice trailed off into a whisper, "I'm sorry.” She returned his kiss, letting all the tenderness and love she felt for him flow into it. Despite the threat in the lyrics, she could sense the overwhelming love he felt for her. They broke apart and she gazed into his eyes sorrowfully, "I hadn't even realised I'd left home."
*****
Wednesday, 17th August 2005 – 9:30am
Tash woke to see sunlight dappling the bedclothes. Motes of dust danced in the beams streaming from the window. She smiled in contentment and stretched, disturbing the arm that lay across her stomach. She turned and smiled, "Good morning."
"Ah, you are awake! As much as I like watching you sleep, I like watching you smile first thing in the morning more."
Her smile changed to a grin which was smothered when they kissed. She thought back on the previous night. It had been... magical was the only word for it. She sighed and stroked Victor's face. "And I suppose I can't really hold you here much longer."
"Well, you could help me with something," Victor said. "I've been thinking about this while you were sleeping. If you rode out to a department store and grabbed the biggest clothes you could find and brought them back here, I might be able to go out and get some, well, better fitting outfits from a tailor.”
Recalling Galen's ripped jeans, not to mention the extremely tight sweatpants, Tash laughed. "Well, hopefully they'll look normal-sized once they're on, the way those other clothes looked like kid's outfits as soon as you wore them. And you'll never be inconspicuous in those pants. Hoo-whee!"
Much as she hated to leave the bed, she crawled out, but turned to Victor as he was sitting up. "Just one for the road," she said as she trailed kisses down his body. "Gotta have something to get me as far as the shower," she winked.
Victor playfully grabbed at her naked butt. And growled like the demon inside. He then rolled out of the bed and joked, "What’s a good demon horror flick without a shower scene?"
He chased her as she alternated between shrieks and laughing to the bathroom where he kissed her, once he caught her.
"Hmmm," Tash melted into his embrace. Then she pulled back, her curiosity having got the better of her. "So how does this glamour feel, compared to the old one? You know," she nodded in the direction of the bedroom.
"I don't have a demonic equivalent. I'm just glad the sizing matters don't translate."
Tash frowned, suspicious. "That wasn't what I meant, and you know it. There's no need to be evasive. Did you feel anything? I could sense a lot of love and joy, but not much by way of passion from you..."
*She wants to know how you don't feel jack shit when she is in the throes of the physicality of love.*
"I don't feel anything physical. But I feel love for you and that is what is important. I am not... equipped... for physical passion."
Tash couldn't help but feel disappointed. She wanted to be able to make him feel as good as he made her feel. She hugged him tightly, "So what does it take to have a G'rnathan Battle Fiend feel pleasure? Apart from killing things, that is."
Victor actually had to shake his head to clear the vision that Vrithetek put there of Tash dangling from her entrails on a ceiling fan.
"They don't feel pleasure unless they have a soul. They don't have satisfaction or even care that they don't have it. They live their lives in the service of the Monitors. The Monitors tell them what to think. And they tell them to feel nothing. I felt I needed more. I was a defective. So even before I had a soul I had feelings. Vrithetek, my soul, and I all feel. You are the only thing that has ever given me pleasure without guilt."
*That is a good explanation that will shut her up.*
So close to him, Tash received a quick flash of the picture of herself and shivered. Vrithetek wasn't letting up on Victor for a second.
"Pleasure, maybe. But I can't make you feel passion." She regarded him sadly, "And I wish I could."
Victor said nothing, but held Tash close until she disentangled herself and peered into the shower stall. "Reckon your new glamour will let you fit in here? You could scrub my back..."
[/]Season Two: Aug 6 2005 - Jan 6 2006
Tuesday, 16th August 2005 – 11:15 PM
The breadth of the room astonished him with his first step in. A void opened on either side of Sam. He moved forward, drew his ring of keys close while, behind him, the door drifted shut. The lights had been left on. He glanced around. So this is what Mr. Tek meant by “apartment.” More like “penthouse”…without the sex. Alone or not, Sam was underdressed. He half-expected voyeurs filming his every move.
Appearances lied. The key that had opened the lock promised accommodations equal to his and Reah’s housing, not a palace. Sam ran its long, oxidized stem through his fingertips, absorbing an orange and green stain. Rust flaked to the floor. What a piece of junk. He tossed the key ring to his left. It came to an immediate and shrill halt on the teak Westminster table, whose smooth surface ran the length of the foyer and ended at the entry of a strikingly white kitchen. A fresh coat of paint touched his sinuses.
His ears sucked up every sound in the room from the whipping of the ceiling fans to the refrigerator humming. This unit was prime for renting. He draped his jacket on a chair and paused with his back to the coat rack. Incredible place, amazing. Cradling his elbows, he took a step, then several, toward a convex window overlooking a street lamp on Poplar Avenue. Under his squeaky shoes passed a floor so glossy that the reflection of the overhead lights slipped ahead, tracked the legs of the furniture up, up, and achieved the summit of a polished oak entertainment center, and there yodeled of its fine Pledge glow.
Over the center of the living room, two Casablanca ceiling fans spun at a leisurely pace, diddling with his hair. He reclined on the couch and cleared his throat, breaking the room’s blank silence with a cacophony he hardly expected. It bounced off the walls and bore the spiky reverberation of a basketball smacking the court. For the first time in his life, it occurred to him that he cleared his throat every seventy seconds.
He could never live in a space this large.
It’d be a crime to gut Mr. Tek’s penthouse of its luxury. But no foul relaxing in its lap for awhile. Sam pulled his knees to his chest and reached for his shoes, then reconsidered. This was his only pair at the moment. Right now his other pair was somewhere in Tash’s apartment. If he had to leave in a hurry (always a possibility) he might lose these, too. Nodding to himself, he left the loops of his shoelaces alone.
He placed his ankles on the armrest and watched the ceiling fans cut traces in the air like the propellers of a biplane. He could easily fall asleep at this point. He could do so many things. He could overcome his fears—fears of betrayal—move from his home town, meet new friends. He could name all the Misters in Reservoir Dogs, thanks to Reah. He could find a job with the likes of Victor Tek, and even more unlikely, Joe Mante. He could balance and kick and bite and hold his own against a werewolf, a vampire. Thanks to Tash. He was growing as a person. He could think and want, and he could pamper his dreams. He could dream.
Mother. She provided his home. Was she real?
As real as Heaven, and she was heading for this very Earth. She appeared clearer after every sleep. Through a daze, he could see. Home was within the reach of anyone who cared to follow the yellow brick road.
Sam now slept, and he was wide-eyed, dreaming.
Conflict
Tuesday, 16 August 2005 - 9.30pm
Jade stifled a yawn as she unlocked her front door. "Tris? I'm home." She wasn't surprised when she didn't get a response; Sorrow had not been in the apartment the previous two nights when she got back from XY either. The amount of the work that had to be done didn't seem to be diminishing and the hours she'd spent at the shop had stretched in the last couple of days. Throwing herself down on the couch, Jade sighed and closed her eyes, letting her thoughts drift back to the spat she and Sorrow had had this morning...
******************
"Don't tell me not to worry, I can't help it!" Jade's eyes flashed with annoyance. "I wake up every morning to find new bruises on you that weren't there before." She gestured impatiently at the purplish mark on Sorrow's face. "How am I supposed to remain calm and unruffled?"
"The same way I do when I see you limping around because of the hip you injured trying to fight off a pack of werewolves on your own!" Sorrow's tone was sharp and he knew that he wasn't being totally reasonable, but he was tired from the hunting he had done the night before and being awoken by Jade's frantic questioning at dawn was not the best way to start his day.
"That was different! What was I suppose to do? Watch as Sam got mauled to death by those crazed dogs? I did what I had to do there Tris... And yes, I got hurt... But it was for the sake of survival. I don't go out looking for trouble night after night, the way that you do."
Sorrow's eyes darkened with anger. "Has it ever occurred to you that I do that for survival too? That the reason I go out hunting down the monsters that inhabit the streets, night after night, is that I need it for my own peace of mind? My sanity?" He whirled away from her, missing the stricken look on her face as he strode to the window and glared out at the watery sunlight seeping over the street.
"Oh Tris," Jade swallowed hard, "I'm sorry. I didn't mean that the way it sounded. I know you're doing what you need to do." She wrapped her arms around his waist and pressed her face against his bare back. "I'm just so worried. It's not just the vampires. Ever since you told me about Xavier, I've had this fear that the Society's going to... I don't know... punish you when they find out about your association with all of us, me in particular..."
Sorrow turned around and gathered Jade into his arms. "Nothing's going to happen to me. I promise. If I was in any trouble or danger, you'll be the first to know, I swear it. Ok?"
Jade smiled a little sheepishly. "Ok. I guess it's all been stewing inside me for the a couple of days and I was just looking to pick a fight." She reached up to touch the bruise on his face. "This was just the easiest way to do so..."
******************
A couple of hours later... About 11.30pm
Sorrow locked the door of Tash's training room and walked downstairs. The workout had left him covered in sweat and he needed a shower before anything else. He thought back to the argument Jade and he had had that morning. Hunting was something he needed to do; the last six months had been unusual, he had had no opportunity to hunt consistently, but in other circumstances, he would have stalked the darkness at practically every opportunity. Jade, however, had never experienced him like this. He understood her concerns though; the difference between himself and, for instance, Tash's state of mind was paper-thin.
Sorrow opened the door to Jade's apartment. The room was dark, illuminated only by the display of the stereo, which was still playing soft music. Jade was curled up on the sofa, asleep. Sorrow put his training gear back in the bedroom then stripped off his clothes and took a brief shower.
A little refreshed and much cleaner, Sorrow returned to the bedroom and after a moment's hesitation, closed the wardrobe door. Jade was right, he was pushing too hard. He could always hunt tomorrow and if not then, the day after. Wrapping his bathrobe a little more tightly around himself he moved back towards the lounge, where Jade's dark eyes watched him quietly.
******************
She'd awoken the minute he had opened the front door but had remained where she was, feigning sleep. Jade was sure that Sorrow meant to go out hunting again and the "truce" they'd called this morning had been an uneasy one; she didn't feel up to fighting with him again. *I'll just pretend to be asleep till he goes out. Less face-to-face contact, less chances of another blow up.*
Jade knew that avoiding the issue wasn't a long term solution to this problem. She wasn't even all that sure where exactly the problem lay... All she was aware of was her growing apprehension about Sorrow's role within the Society of Ulle, one that had started over the months she'd spent with him in England. Then, Jade had been too focused on finding a cure for Sorrow to bother much about the demon hunters dogging their every move. Now that they were back in L.A however, the fact that she was half-vampire and the risks it involved for Sorrow to be with her were rapidly being driven home, the attack on them in the park four days ago being a prime example.
And now there were all these other parts to consider, none of which, in Jade's opinion, bode well for a pretty picture. She mentally ticked them off...
There was Xavier, a fellow Ulle hunter determined to add Victor to his list of dead demons.
There was Tash, her uncharacteristic lust for violence and her unpredictable temper. Jade bit her lip and promised herself that by hook or by crook, she'd catch up with Tash in the next 24 hours. She'd neglected her friends long enough... *XY's re-opening can be postponed a day, it won't kill you girl!*
And finally, there was Sorrow... Jade didn't know if she was being over-sensitive but she's never seen Tris the way he was now. He was going all out in his hunting, and judging from the injuries he was clocking up, it was often done without regard to his own well-being. *Geez, the guy's barely got scratched when we were dealing with the monsters at the Beazor or fighting the witches at the Cloch Closan thingie...*
Jade let out an inaudible sigh as Sorrow walked out of the bedroom and decided to let him know that she was awake. Since the trouble they'd had with Valerian, they'd promised each other never to cut the other party out when there was a problem. Jade sat up and smiled at him tentatively, noting with some surprise that he was still in his robe. Getting up, she crossed the room and slipped into his embrace, turning her face up for a kiss. Whatever his reasons were for his sudden *Or was it just because I'd never noticed before?* fervour in his hunting, Jade knew that there was little she could do to stop him. His words to her that morning had made that clear enough. "... I need it for my own peace of mind... My sanity."
Sorrow dipped his head and gave Jade a lingering kiss. They settled onto the sofa, Jade resting her head against his chest. "I'm sorry..." He needed to explain, but he couldn't quite put it into words. So instead, he just held her. Finally with a sigh he started speaking. "I know I've been pushing things lately, hunting almost every night, the training sessions and everything..." He shook his head, "I've not hunted for six months... The cure gave me no opportunity. I'm out of practice, downright rusty in fact." He held Jade tightly for a moment "I need to hunt Jade, more importantly, I need to get back to where I was..."
"I know." Jade said quietly. "But I can't help worrying when I see you coming back hurt. So you're a little out of shape..." She choked back a giggle when Sorrow raised an eyebrow at her. "Ok, not that out of shape..." Jade smiled as she trailed her fingers appreciatively down the expanse of chest bared by the robe... "That doesn't mean you have to jump straight into the thick of things, does it? Couldn't you... I don't know... Ease back into hunting instead of leaping right into the deep end?"
"Maybe," He sounded doubtful. "I'll try and be a little more careful. If Tash can get it together a little, hunting with her should make things safer." Sorrow nuzzled at Jade's neck a little. "Are you going to be spending all evening at XY again tomorrow?"
"Actually, I was going to take the day off and spend some time," Jade wriggled playfully in Sorrow's embrace, "with my boyfriend whom I've been sorely neglecting lately. That is, of course, unless he's got other plans?"
"Oh nothing I can't put off." Sorrow drew Jade up for a long deep kiss. As they broke apart, both breathless, Sorrow's hands wandered to the back of Jade's dress. "Why don't we adjourn somewhere more comfortable?" he whispered, just before he nibbled her ear.
Jade wrapped her arms around Sorrow's neck. "Why don't we..."
Season Two: Aug 6 2005 - Jan 6 2006
Wednesday, 17 August 2005 - 9.00pm
Mantheana inhaled deeply in the evening air. She enjoyed night walks. Until now she had rarely ever come out of the house in the day, and night walks were more of a tradition than anything else. Of course that wasn't to say she enjoyed the majority of the nightlife, but you couldn't have everything. She had left Maria home with Ellie and Yasha, and so was out alone. For this very reason, a dagger lay in waiting under her skirts.
She didn’t know where to go though. LA was such a big place. She would go for a drive, but she didn't like to leave her wheels out on the streets. She looked round the street. She had moved out of her classy neighbourhood and only the next step down. Blocks of flats surrounded her like concrete giants, dwarfing her in comparison. There was the clang of dustbins and a racoon, swiftly followed by a mangy tomcat, zipped past her. She would have brought Yasha, but Maria wouldn't stay at home without him.
He heels clopped quietly on the cobbles and she wrapped the cloak tighter around herself. Far away she could smell Chinese food. Mantheana hadn't had that since she was actually in China. Nothing beat actual Chinese Chinese food, but she was unusually hungry. She followed her nose until she found a small Chinese food takeaway.
Mantheana ordered chow mien and was just walking from the collection point when she saw Bowen walking up with some friends, about to order their own food. She turned away, not wanting company on her night walk, but it was too late. A smile appeared on his ever-friendly face and he walked over to greet her, leaving his friends to go order.
"Hey! Mantheana!" he called as her caught up to her.
"Good evening Mr Shore." She attempted a smile. It wasn't that Bowen wasn't a nice person. But any male that seemed interested in her scared her.
"I err… was wondering. I think since I was so well treated round your place, that it's my duty to invite you round mine. Ok that sounded terrible. But I would like you to come round some time. Yeah?"
Clutching her chow mien nervously, Mantheana did not know what to say. She would like to see his home. But that was a scary prospect.
"I… I don't know…" She stammered in spite of herself.
"Please? Look, I'll ditch my friends; I can see them anytime. OK?" He smiled again, his blue eyes imploring her to say yes.
"Fine. But only for a little vhile. I'm going to end up owing a fortune to the babysitter." The more she though about it, the more she thought she would definitely like Bowen for a friend. At this response, Bowen grinned madly and ran off to receive his food and to announce his departure.
"Hey sorry to hang up on you guys, but I gotta go." Bowen accepted his carton. There were a couple of wolf whistles and words of encouragement which only encouraged Bowen to tell them to shut up.
He walked swiftly back over to Mantheana, steaming noodles boxed in one hand. "Ok, just follow me, we're not far off." He touched her frozen arm to guide her, but thought better of it when he felt the tiniest withdrawal from his fingers.
On going round a couple of blocks, Mantheana found herself looking up at yet another block of flats. They weren't nasty flats. But they were a horrible industrial grey.
She followed Bowen up three flights of stairs before he stopped at a door and brought out a set of keys. Once the door was open, Bowen stepped aside from it so that Mantheana could walk in. As she did, she took in this new environment.
It was a nice flat. It wasn't very big, but then Bowen didn't really need a huge house. It reminded Mantheana of her flat back in England. She liked it.
"Hey, do you wanna take a seat?" Bowen nodded towards the sofa and Mantheana sat down on it. They had both finished their Chinese, so he put the boxes in the bin. "Drink? Coffee? Tea?" The kitchen was joint with the room they were in, so Bowen only had to walk a couple of steps when Mantheana requested tea.
He sat down next to her heartily when the drinks were made and handed hers over. Mantheana smiled and held the mug under her chin, letting the warmth rise and tickle her neck. "Thank you for inviting me here, Mr Shore. It is very nice." She sipped politely at her beverage.
"Bowen, please. Not quite as spiffy as your place though, huh?" He grinned and gulped down his coffee.
"Oh I vouldn't say that. It is just not as big."
"Well I couldn't afford a castle, although I heard the rates are better over in Camelot." At the first light-hearted thing she'd heard all evening, Mantheana laughed. A lock of her long dark hair fell from behind her ear and over her eyes. Bowen could not resist the temptation to clear her face.
He moved his hand over and gently hooked the wavy strands back behind her ear. He looked into her shining eyes and let his hand rest on her cheek. It was as cold as her hand had been when they had touched back at her house. It made the hairs on his arms stand up. Most people who were at this temperature would be dying from hypothermia. But not her. She just looked at him then looked down at her fingers as if embarrassed by the whole situation. He tried to reassure her.
"Hey," he spoke softly. Her dark eyes looked up into his face and for a second he could see his own reflection in them. He felt enchanted and stooped, bringing his face closer to kiss her. For a brief moment their lips touched, but before Bowen could tell what was going on, Mantheana was on her feet.
"No!" her voice was a mirror of fear.
"What? What's wrong?" Bowen was alarmed that she should seem so scared.
"Stay avay from me… I… I just can't. So just… just stay avay." She was starting to cry.
"Listen, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to…" He was flustered. He never meant to distress her. He moved over to touch her shoulder, but she moved out of the way with suprising speed.
"No. Look, leave me alone. You don't know me." Her mind searched frantically for something to drive him away. "I'm not normal… You think being this cold is natural? You don't know me… I have to go now... I don't vant to see you again." With that she flung open the door and ran out. Bowen, horrified at what he had just inadvertently triggered, ran as fast as he could after her.
Her speed was strange. Although her feet seemed to be moving at the same speed any young woman with high heel boots on would, the distance she covered begged to differ. Although she was fast, she wasn't as sure as Bowen of the way back home. Bowen, knowing this part of the city like the back of his hand, short cutted all the way there.
This was not quite enough though and as he got to her house, he was just in time to see the door slam shut and the teenager he'd seen before roll down the road on her skateboard. She flashed him a dirty look as if she knew he were obviously the source of Mantheana's discomfort and moved on.
He walked cautiously up the front steps and gave an experimental knock on the door. There was no response. He tried again, harder this time. There was the faint fumble of a latch or handle and the door opened slowly. Mantheana stood there, red eyed and long faced. Upon seeing Bowen she began to shut the door again, but he stuck his foot in the way and gave her a pleading look.
"Please. I won't be long. Just tell me what I did and I'll go away." Again he searched to look deep into her unique eyes. She stared back for a moment and then silently stood back to let him pass. Bowen walked through into the living room and waited for Mantheana to sit down before he did.
He was the first to speak. "Listen, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to upset you. I wouldn't ever want to upset you. I don't understand how I did." He spoke quietly and gravely, and then awaited her response.
Mantheana sighed. "My last partner," she began, "My only partner. The man who fathered Maria. He… he put me through a lot of things. Things that… that really hurt me and changed me inside and out. So I… I can't be with anyone… until I have figured out exactly what he did to me…" She stopped, appearing satisfied with how she had put things.
"I'm sorry. If I'd known, I wouldn't have pushed. But just… just one more thing. If I can't have you as a partner… can I have you as a friend?" His face was a picture of hope. Mantheana appeared to give this some thought.
"I vould like that. So yeys. I think so." A faint smile appeared on her pale face. Bowen however could barely contain his grinning. He placed his hand over hers for a second, and feeling the icy cold he remembered something she had said earlier.
"Just before you ran off… earlier. You said something about not being normal. What did you mean?"
Mantheana gave him a worried look. "My ex-partner. The changes he made to me. They vern't all emotional. He made me how I am. Vot I am. You vill see how I'm different." Bowen stood up and Mantheana followed. She walked him to the door quietly.
"Good night Mantheana." He smiled kindly.
"Good night Bowen." As he started down the steps she closed the door and made her way up stairs, she watched the sleeping Maria for a while and then she went to bed.
Bowen was almost home before he realised Mantheana had called him Bowen for the first time.
The Anglophile and his Anglophobiac
Wednesday, August 17, 2005. 1 AM-ish
She should have closed the curtains.
The sign hung outside their window. One by one, dozens of tungsten filaments lit up to spell “Skunk Motel No Vacancy.” The corner of the room became blue. Yellow joined it. Then red. Within the slabs of color, an umbra of inverted letters burned strong, but only for a short time. They began throbbing urgently, as if to say, “look, look, look, look, look.” Brinkley closed her eyes tightly, but the “ycnacaV oN letoM knukS” remained. When she opened them, peaceful lightlessness had swallowed the room. Give it a sec. The sign would be back. Fifteen hundred times before dawn.
Brinkley forgot the Dramamine in the glove compartment when they unloaded the car. The earplugs, too. “Be quiet,” she whispered over her shoulder. She tugged at the covers. “Ra. Shush. Ra, wake up and shush.”
“You don’t have to knock me up, luv, I’m awake,” Ra said. “Blimey.”
“You were sleep-laughing.”
“Rather, I was having a bit of this, like, waking nightmare. It was terribly funny.”
Brinkley grunted. “Still doing that?” she said.
“Still doing what? Me laughing or me dreaming?”
“That! That right there. That stupid whatchamacallit—that brogue you picked up.” She’d been avoiding the subject for two days, but this was good a time as any to strip him of his nasty habit. It wasn’t correcting itself.
“Pardon?” he said. “Don’t fancy me English accent, then?”
“That’s supposed to be English?”
“Damn bloody straight, i’tis.”
“Stop it, gawd. It’s shock treatment.” She rolled over in bed, pulled the covers to her chin, and stared into the bulwark of darkness separating them. She grimaced at his breath: last night’s Big Mac. “I admit, it was cute at first. But now it’s really bothering me. Ra, sweetheart, don’t take this the wrong way, but you couldn’t do an English accent to save your life.”
“I say, don't pull any punches, now.”
“And a little advice about your idiom," she said. "Pick a region and stick with it. You’re all over the Isles.”
“You mean this idiom, the one coming out of me lips right now?” He sounded as though he were grinning. “Don’t it make you horny, baby?”
“I highly don’t think so. It’s stupid. Not you.”
“Are you daft? I’m arse over tit about it. You just wait, I’ll be a bobby dazzler with the next bit of fluff we come across. Really, Brink, you yourself could stand a lift in the personality department. Be a big hit with the boys if you had an accent, and I can coach you. Suck it and see.”
“When I’m ready to hook up with a new man I’ll be sure and let you know.”
“Ouch.”
The sign lit up the window behind her. Young as a planet to its star, Ra’s face appeared under thermal blue lines, and yes, he was grinning. She could make out part of the word “skunk” radiating on his chest.
“I stand corrected,” she said. “It is you. Totally you.”
“Load of bollocks.”
“Give it up. You don’t sound British, not even a little.” She wiped her eyes. “It’s more like…like cockney…cockney Irish…or East Indian…mixed with…imbecile.”
“You’re just pissy because you didn’t get the idea to talk like this first.”
“Oh, I’m so jealous," she said. "Seriously, the gimmick got old before we left Long Beach.”
The reverse blue “k” flickered rapidly on his shoulder, then vanished into the dark. “I don’t know, it’s quite grown on me,” he said. “Think I’ll keep it. I got me new accent from that girl whose brain we redeemed during Monday’s concert.”
“Ah. I was wondering.”
“Her voice was her best feature. She was attractive for a wally, don’t you think?”
“I don’t know, maybe. Couldn’t see much my side of the stage lights—and please stop talking like that.”
“Righty-right. Don’t get your knickers in a twist there, Brink.”
Brinkley flipped over and sunk her ear in the pillow. She gazed out the window at all the nimbus and shit suspended above the city skyline. She could have been sleeping, but Ra had to go and wake her up. Sometimes she wished they slept in separate beds. Drove separate cars. The word “separate” crossed her mind far too many times during the night.
Brinkley Davis and her brother Ra, siblings and lovers and no good for each other and married for all time. Hoorah. Walking hand-in-hand since the beginning of rhyme. Ah, but for two decades, Brinkley had been fighting an urge to divorce the guy, and therein the cadence was lost.
Existing as a human being got suckier with each passing year. Before this, she and Ra lived as a couple of orangutans; who could have guessed the Darwinian cul-de-sac that apes turned out to be? Actually, their years living in the bodies of pterodactyls had been Brinkley’s favorite. She longed for the days of 140,000 millennia ago. Her only chance for a blissful future lay after mankind peters out and The Idea chooses its dark horse. Brinkley was rooting for the cockroaches. Ra thought she was crazy. He held on to the hope that mankind would ride God to its bitter conclusion.
She was curious. She glanced over, and when the motel sign relit her brother’s Buscemi eyes, she asked, “So what were you dreaming about?”
“When?”
“A few minutes ago, retard. When you woke me up.” She kicked him under the sheets. “With your laughing?”
“Ow, right, the funny nightmare,” he said. “Actually, I ran into one of those gormless dream-weavers. Nothing to get ruffled about, we’ve dealt with her kind before.”
“A dream demon.”
“Somethin’ like that. This one thought she could do the dirty on me. Frighten us out of L.A. Went by the name Mariah, she did.”
“What did she have to say?”
“The usual. Gave me a sparky ‘watch yourself, stranger,’ speech. Said she knew why we was here, and that she wouldn’t stand for us, like, sifting through people’s noggins.”
“And what did you say?”
“Long story short? I laughed in her prissy face.”
“I doubt she took that well.”
“Right, right. She did wake me up, after all. I took it as an unwelcome hint.”
“I bet she knows about our book.”
“Nah. I didn’t sense The Idea in her. A Godless wanker, if you ask me.”
“Nothing is Godless,” Brinkley said. “We should look into it. Next time you dream, try to find out if she has any connection to—”
“Boo to that. She’s clean. You know demons, luv, always sucking hickeys. She wanted us to know who owned this town. Promised to eat my Y-fronts if we interfered with her schemes. That’s when I started laughing, by the by.”
Brinkley breathed heavily through her nose. “I asked you to stop it with the bogus slang. I said please, didn’t I? Like ‘Y-fronts.’ What is that, your eyeballs? Your nuts? Your brains? No one can understand a word you’re saying when you talk like that. Obscure phrases don’t make you cool, Ra. Speaking clearly in your own voice, that makes you cool.”
“A real Brit just might disagree might you.”
“I’d like to test that hypothesis.”
“Rather,” he said, “this new, improved me is just, like, an idea I’m batting around. I say, the world is our stage.” Ra rested his sharp jaw line over her ribcage. Red and yellow splashed the strands of his white-beach hair. “Flowing with the flow is part of our job. If you recall, that is.”
“You don’t need to tell me what our job is.” It certainly wasn’t surfing aimlessly, as Ra would have it, until by fate they struck business. It seemed nice, in and of itself, a life without responsibility. But who would be there to keep her idiot partner in line if she went on sabbatical? They had purpose in this life. Ra Davis and his sister Brinkley: poachers of ideas on parole. Taxidermists of convicted hypotheses. Doctors of theories under investigation. Scientists patrolling in the name of God. Absolutely she’d zigzag like Ra through life—if the continuation the whole universe wasn’t at stake. Somebody had to keep their flow on the road.
“Glean anything yet,” she asked, “anything usable in that girl’s mind? I mean the chick from Long Beach, not this Mariah entity. Besides the bad accent, of course.”
“I’ve been working on it,” he said, using his normal voice for a change. He faded off, as if checking his memory banks. “Her thoughts are pretty shallow. Hard to imagine how The Idea found itself a hidey-hole in that mud puddle. But it was there, traces of it. We were lucky. I don’t think she had a chance to infect anyone before we fixed her.”
Fixed her.
They had double-parked on Boltad and 10th and caught up with her on the bustling sidelines of a Hansons concert. As soon as they entered the stadium, Ra was all over it. He left Brinkley at the Pepsi machine and ensconced himself in the throng of bouncy fans. Brinkley struggled to see through the rain of stage lights and the longhairs with their raised Bic Megalighters. Ra moved through them like a thresher shark. He resurfaced up front, level with Zachary Hanson’s knees.
Ra floated to the girl’s side. He tapped her shoulder, and when she turned, he grabbed her temples and denuded her on the spot. The girl dropped to the floor, and the crowd simply enveloped her, another star-struck fan. No one heeded the limp corpse underfoot. It was perfectly natural to swoon at a Hanson’s concert, and if you lost your place, tough luck. The crowd shifted, filled in the spot where she’d been standing. She may as well have never been conceived.
Her poor parents.
Brinkley lost sight of Ra for a minute. She scanned the backs of the kids who weren’t nimble enough to delve closer to the stage. He emerged from the imbroglio slapping his hands together victoriously. He took Brinkley’s arm, and they headed for the door. Ra licked his lips: “Totally tubular, dude.”
The thing with sucking a brain for The Idea: it always tasted like something, frequently grapefruit. Brinkley rarely found a flavor she could abide. So, although she owned the same powers as Ra, she mostly left the brain-sucking to him.
Her brother was a hound. He could sniff out the most unlikely hiding places. And The Idea was not easy to track. It could exist for a lifetime as no greater than a notion: fragile, subliminal, potentially benign. You might never realize you were its host. But then again, The Idea had this habit of metastasizing when you least expected, rising to the surface, an epiphany. Sneeze and it’d explode like a dandelion and drift away as a thousand invisible spores. You’d have unwittingly freed a dentulous fiend, ready to pollinate the first subconscious mind within biting distance. There was no telling whom it would inspire next.
“About that girl,” Brinkley said, lulling under the drapes of yellow and blue. The skin spanning her collar bone to her glamour doll breasts turned red. “Ra, sit up.”
“Whuh?”
“I asked you a question. Are you awake?”
Ra had drooled on her shoulder. He lifted his head and swallowed. “Which girl?”
“The girl, the girl. The Hansons girl.”
“Oh. Her.”
“Do you think she contracted The Dread Idea from the book itself?”
“If she’d gotten it direct from the Die Angst-Idee I’d have tasted it,” Ra said, his English accent returning. “I fancy she caught it from some blathering Hansonite… who no doubt picked it up from some other git. If we’re lucky, it’ll only be this other git we have to concern ourselves with. But I can feel it: the git in question is somewhere in this city, and he knows about our book. We’ll find him.”
“It takes a git to find a git,” she said. If Ra used the term “git” a fourth time, she’d leap out of bed and walk out on him. For good. No matter how much he needed her keeping his ass centered on a path of righteousness. “Just keep your mind off Britain and on Los Angeles, can you do that?”
“Don’t throw a wobbly on me, I say.” His tone hardened, his accent thickened. “This time, you’re the one who woke me up.”
“At least I care enough to think about what we’re doing in L.A. You don’t care about that girl’s brain at all, do you? You just had fun killing her.”
“Fixing her, Brink, I fixed her.”
“You wasted our time if she’s as empty as you say she is. The trail is getting cold, admit it. You’re just goofing around, and we’re not learning a damn thing.”
“See here. Human animals learn by dillydallying, not by skipping straight to class. And in case you hadn’t noticed, we’re going to be human for a while at least. Maybe you want to get through and over with God’s divine lesson plan. But I plan on earning me some extracurricular credit while I still got me ten fingers and me ten toes. And I’ll tell you this. I’m glad the zoonosis is on the rampage, otherwise we’d still be living in Louisana with those gutter punk mates of yours. It’s because we haven’t isolated it yet that I am who I am. I hope we never find that dreadful book. Because I like our job.” He flopped on his side and ripped the blanket from her hands. “And this new accent fits me to a tee, thanks.”
Brinkley rolled her eyes. He didn’t used to be this bad. “Fine,” she said. “Play if you wanna play.”
“Keep your pecker up, Brink, it’s all good. We’re professionals. We’ll do our jobs.”
“In-between your side projects, you mean. I swear, if the universe snaps because of your screwing off, my last sane act as an American will be to break up with you.”
“Blimey, luv. A little testy this week, ain’t we?”
“And I’m taking the Volkswagen with me.”
That got him. His precious white Beetle. He swallowed and said, “Well the universe hasn’t finalized yet. And I don’t fancy letting it.”
“I’ll take that as a promise.”
“Sod off. Because I don’t see you sucking any brains for information.”
“You’re the one who likes sucking brains, Ra. Remember how you always used to say, ‘I call first dibs on the triceratops,’ or ‘Brink, mind if I suck King Henry’s wife?’ You asked for it, brother.”
“Oh yeah,” he said. “Right, that.” Ra stole a kiss during the next lightless moment. Brinkley wiped her mouth and prayed for the color to return.
“Know sumthin’?” he said. “You’re a lot more uptight than you used to be.”
“I’m mature.”
“I think it’s time we changed our identities. Twenty years per American female is just about your limit.”
“I'm fine, thanks. I hate starting over.”
He walked his fingers to the wet spot on her shoulder, then kissed it. “New things is what we do best. Whatever happened to that fiery high school girl who mish-mashed at the Marilyn Manson concert?”
“It’s called ‘mosh.’”
“Whatever,” he said. “Remember back when we were amoebas? Back when we practically was The Idea incarnate? Now that was the Brinkley I remember and love.”
“That’s because you and I were the same amoeba.”
“Were we?”
“Have you forgotten that whole budding thing?” she said. She wished they were amoebas again just so she could relive their splitting up.
“Those were the days. It was all about free love then. Say…” He placed his cold, rough fingers on her hip. “Fancy a bit of the ol’ in-out before breakfast?”
“Gawd, no,” she said, slapping his hand away. “Not when you talk like that. It’s time you took our career seriously. And you can start by dropping the accent. And you can finish by focusing on The Idea.”
The Idea—sometimes preceded by “Dread,” sometimes “Beloved,” depending on one’s point of view—was the most brilliant substance in existence. It was existence. Ra treated it like Playdough. But her brother had always been this way, a slave to fads. He’d helped invent Rubik’s Cube, after all. And he once owned a Pet Rock—which was a silly idea from the get-go, despite that it made a million idiots happy. Line dancing, the cha-cha, the moonwalk, the Latin Hustle, Ra danced them all. Even danced the Charleston in 1926. But these were the beloved aspects of God. It got worse. Dreadful, in fact. Like when Ra fancied himself a Nazi. Adolph Hitler was an example of The Idea gone bad.
Ra scoffed at morality. He flowed with God wherever. No difference to him if people got hurt. For that matter, it made no difference if people got well. It was all God. Maybe her centuries as a human had ruined her, but Brinkley couldn’t stand a world without limits. She chose parsimony, whereas Ra chased hedonism. They’d been growing apart for the longest time. Rather, she’d been growing ill and tired of her lover never growing.
It was past 1 AM.
“Let’s get some sleep, Ra. We’ve got an epidemic to isolate tomorrow. I’m setting the alarm for six.”
“Spot on, I’m knackered.”
“Smashing,” she said. “Good night. Oh, and if it’s not too much trouble, can you keep your funny dreams to yourself?”
“Tell you what. If the Goldilocks demon visits me again, I’ll just tell her, 'Sorry, luv, but my sis says I can’t play with you no more.’ Will that suit you?”
“It will. Good night.”
Brinkley licked her lips and forced herself to relax. She exhaled. Her body deflated. Ra had all the covers, but the air was warm, so she didn’t fight for them. In time, tranquility settled over the bed. The clock hummed on the nightstand. The bathroom sink released a casual drip, a restful plinking. She began sinking into the mattress.
“Brink?” Ra said.
Brinkley opened a slit in her mouth and said, “Whuz it?”
“I was hoping. Tomorrow, let’s change our names.”
“No. Too soon. Maybe… maybe next year.”
“The universe could end next year.”
“No. Won’t end.”
“How can you be sure?”
“Because…” She opened wide and yawned, and her jaws popped. “You promised. Said… don’t ‘fancy’… letting it happen…”
“I did say that, didn’t I?”
“Yesss.”
“Righty then,” he said. “Sorry to wake you.”
Several minutes passed.
“Brink? Brinkley? Hey.”
“Hum?”
“What do you think of ‘Weathersby’?
“Weth…bee?”
“I’d make a nice Ra Weathersby, don’t you think?” he said. “I could find some new body to go along with it. What do you think about Sam Neil? I’m tired of everyone calling me a Beach Boy. Imagine, all the fluff will be jealous of you. ‘Cuz you’ll be walking arm-in-arm with a real gent that, like, they can’t have. Not some git.”
She squinted her eyes against the motel sign flashing outside their window and strived to ignore the big red “o” projected on the backs of her eyelids. It started flashing wildly. “Remind me,” she murmured, “in morning.”
“Remind you what, luv?”
“Must break up. With your. Dumb. Ass.”
She fumbled for the alarm and switched it to OFF. She really should have closed the curtains.
Season Two: Aug 6 2005 - Jan 6 2006
The sensation of giving birth is singular among humans. No two births are the same, and no two deliveries are the same. Being born is something so few humans remember so I remember for them.
I open the place in the basement and the blank walks out. It knows where to go, my eyes and ears know what to do to get it where it needs to go. Soon it will collect the memories, the scars, and the markings that make it real. Another part of me will live here.
So many universes I have filled with my essence and there is so much more of me to go around. This place is alive. So alive. It is fun to watch it struggle for meaning and yearn for purpose. I like that it feels that there is something to be gained by resisting the flow.
Struggle is interesting. The blank walks up the stairs and the eyes and ears open the door as it has many times before. It seems to resent my intrusion. It struggles. Good.
The eyes and ears drive the blank into the city. There is traffic and the eyes and ears get angry at the delay. It rages. Good. Rage is the pepper in the soup, it is spicy and hot. If I had sinues they would tingle at the rage.
The blank exits the truck and is recognised. I feel little satisfaction at the design of this one. It, of course, feels nothing. It is not alive. It is not real. The eyes and ears leave the blank behind. They do not want to see or hear for me. I must move the blank because without me it will cease to exist. The eyes and ears I will deal with later.
The blank enters the building it will call home. It knocks as I direct it to do. A woman answers the door. I tell her I have forgotten my key. I kiss her passionlessly. She looks at me strangely, but allows me inside.
The blank goes to the bedroom. It changes its clothes. I feel it moving away, absorbing life from these things. These minor things have so little power that it is hardly enough to keep the blank anchored in reality. But it is enough.
The blank goes to watch the television. I can feel the litlle sugary sweetness that pressing the remote brings to the blank. Like candy it is good for a while, but too much can be tiresome and sickening. It is not long before the door opens again and the target enters.
The woman is confused. She tells him about the blank, but she does not understand. Neither does he. He confronts the blank. I can feel the hunger for the markings. There are so many. If I had skin it would be covered with goose pimples.
The blank pulls out the gun it found in the drawer with the clothes. One shot for him. One for her. They drop. He isn't dead, just dying. Plenty of time.
=====
LA Times: Thursday, Aug 18th, 2005
Dennis Rodman injured by Deranged Fan; Carmen Electra killed
LOS ANGELES - Police responded to a 911 call to the residence of former LA Lakers power forward Dennis Rodman. They found him inside covered in blood from a chest wound. They also found his girlfriend, former supermodel Carmen Electra, dead at the scene.
This crime was apparently the work of a deranged fan who disguised himself as Rodman by drawing on tattoos and wearing fake piercings and coloring his hair. Rodman was able to defeat the fan but not before he killed Ms. Electra and wounded Rodman.
Rodman told police that he repeatedly beat the fan. Police are not expecting to charge Mr. Rodman who was released after giving his statement. Police spokesmen confirmed that the fan was found dead at the scene but did not release details of Mr. Rodman's injuries or where he might be receiving treatment.
Rodman's office has issued a statement confirming that "Mr. Rodman acted in self defence and used force appropriate to the danger of the situation." The statement also mentions that "The death of his longtime companion Carmen Electra has left him in emotional shock" and requests that all sympathy cards and gifts be routed through his publicist while he recovers.
melissa gets a night out
***** Wednesday, August 17, 2005, 11 pm *****
Melissa stood in the crowded dance club, the wild beat of techno music writhing over her skin. She wore tight, dark pants and a short, belly baring top. Melissa Blue felt wild, sexual and alive, for the first time in her life. There was no bitter, angry father, and no bible bearing, disapproving mother, no one looking over her shoulder. For the first time in her 20 short years, Melissa was ready to do something new, something exciting. She felt liberated, and she craved that excitement. Around her, men and women danced that ancient dance of seduction and sensuality.
In the center of it all, Melissa watched one man in particular. His blond hair was curly and short and his green eyes flashed laughter as he spoke to the other young men with him. Melissa was reminded by that smile of another man, a soft spoken young priest she’d once known. The holy man who’d promised her love and left her alone at 13, scared, pregnant, and telling a tale no one believed, least of all her furious father or her disgusted mother. Melissa had lost the baby after her father’s beating put her in the hospital for four days. When she came to, Father Jordan was gone, transferred to a new parish out of state. Everyone thought Melissa was crazy, and fixated on the poor, dear parish priest.
Melissa stopped trying after that. She didn’t talk to anyone, or fight back when her parents tore into her. Melissa just hid inside herself, and wished. She wished for a way out, but she never prayed. Praying had brought Father Jordan to her, so Melissa had learned her lesson. When Melissa Blue graduated from high school, she got a letter from UCLA. That school was about as far from Dawson, Iowa as she could imagine being. They wanted her to come there to study. They offered her money, enough to cover classes and books. Melissa would have to work while she studied, but she would be out of Iowa. Melissa left two days after graduation. She took a bus, a scary, dirty bus full of strangers.
When Melissa got to L.A. she figured she’d just arrived in heaven. Here she could disappear. Here she could be reborn. Melissa Blue worked, studied, and began, slowly, to talk. She met a kind, wise doctor. One who helped her to understand that she had been the innocent victim in her life. Melissa began to feel better, stronger, although she was cripplingly shy most of the time. Then one day, not long ago, Melissa Blue went to make a delivery at a charming brownstone, and suddenly she felt better. Life was a big, juicy peach, and Melissa was finally ready to go take a bite.
The blonde with the sweet smile would be Melissa’s first bite, a big, tasty bite. Melissa walked over to the blonde boy, smiling a hot, saucy smile.
“Wanna dance?” Melissa asked, stroking one finger across the blonde boy’s sweater and down his arm to grip his hand. The boy nodded, grinning at his friends who chased the two of them onto the dance floor with hoots, whistles, and catcalls. Melissa ignored them. She stopped in the center of the floor and began to dance, her body swaying and rubbing against her partner's. The boy seemed shocked, but pleased by Melissa’s provacative approach. He joined in the dance.
Dance after dance followed for Melissa and her new friend, Eddie. Finally, Melissa smiled at him and led him off the floor. She didn’t stop when he protested, but rather, dragged her new found boy toy out into the alley behind the club.
"Uh…what are we doing out here?” Eddie asked, glancing curiously around the trash filled alley.
Melissa just smiled mysteriously and moved into Eddie’s embrace. She grabbed his head and pulled it down to her own, kissing him with a wild fire. Eddie was surprised, but he was also a college aged man. He joined in with the same abandon he’d shown during the dance. Eddie shoved Melissa against the cold stone wall, unable to believe his luck. This girl was hot, nuclear hot. Eddie pulled at her top, roughly grabbing at Melissa’s skin. She panted and rubbed against him, driving him to continue. In moments, he was taking her against the brick wall, shocked and half out of his mind from the heat and flash of the moment.
Eddie shuddered as his release came, unaware that Melissa had stopped moving. He held her pinned against the wall, but Melissa’s face had filled with horror and loathing. She grabbed the blade stuck in her back pocket, and flipped it open, wriggling, trying to get away from Eddie. He didn’t notice, or understand. Melissa felt her panic and fury growing.
"I’m not a victim any more,” she hissed. Eddie’s head snapped up, his expression confused.
“What?” he asked. “What’s wrong, ba…”
Eddie’s words ended abruptly and his confused smile turned to agony as Melissa drove the blade into his side. Her face was a mask of blind rage. “No more, no more,” she repeated softly, tearing Eddie apart with the small knife. Finally, when he stopped moving, stopped breathing, Melissa shoved him away, letting Eddie fall to the ground at her feet.
She was breathing fast, her face flushed with color. Melissa stepped over Eddie’s body and dropped the knife in a pile of trash in the corner. She was covered in his blood, but she smiled softly. Humming along to the strains of music coming from the club, Melissa Blue headed for home, her quiet bed, and disturbing dreams about a young college boy who looked a bit like someone she’d once known.
Season Two: Aug 6 2005 - Jan 6 2006
***Wednesday 17th August, 2005…10:46am***
The screen flickered in a mass of rushing lines as it buzzed and whirred. Distorted images skittering around in reverse in a blizzardy haze of blue, black and white on and on and on, halting suddenly in mid-action with one swift ‘click’ of a button. Feet kicked up on his desk, Joe tapped his lower lip with the remote, frowning at the scene that replayed before him.
The three men and what could only be described as a giant porcupine entered the Armoury for the eleventh time over. *That guy in the front. Why can’t I think of where I know him from?* Joe kicked his feet off the desk and pull himself in closer, squinting through the glare of the screen he studied the down angled view of the man as he took in his surroundings once more before again heading over to Reah who was reading that damn dictionary he swore he threw out.
"Excuse me. My name is Paul. Just Paul…" The conversation was short and slightly difficult to pick up through all the disruption that came through the small mic attachment on the camera. After he made some alterations it was the best he could get - he managed to dull out the background noise enough to pick up the conversation and was able to decipher it. It was that name that blew sirens in his head… well that and the fact that two vampires and a giant porcupine had also followed him in. Paul could have been any regular old Paul off the street. His face didn’t spark anything in Joe, only the name accompanied by the demon lackeys had made him itch, but he couldn’t put his finger on it no matter how much he battered his brains. Although he was pretty sure to check his list of enemies and bad associations and not his list of friends to work out where this guy was from… which basically left him with his whole life to sort through.
The threats had near immediately followed since Paul first opened his mouth.
Leaning back into his reclining chair, Joe watched as Reah fought off the offenders with a surprising degree more skill and little effort than he’d given her credit for, wincing when Paul shot her through the vampire's back before sliding out of the scene. Joe’s eyes narrowed. That gun should have never gone off. There was supposed to be ward of a sort to stop firearms from going off. *That mage would pay if he didn’t have the power to vanquish me into thin air… that’s if he even is a mage.* The remote creaked and squeaked in his grip before he realised what he was doing. Playing it safe he tossed the remote onto the desk as he watched Darling’s case tumble onto the porcupine.
Swinging his chair around he pulled himself up forcefully, diverting his eyes from watching Darling lose the end of her tail again. He couldn’t bear it. Her new case was now behind the counter, merged into the original display case that held an assortion of samurai swords, situated against the back wall between the two doors. *Reah probably won't like it, but she’ll just have to deal.* He’d had double-paned bullet proof glass used for this one; it cost enough, but after coming so close to losing her he was in no mood to gamble anything that could result in Darling’s death.
Striding over to Darling who was currently sprawled under her thermal lamp in a space Joe had designated to her for when he brought her up here, he picked her up and gently hung her across the back of his neck. Her sudden weight that he donned was something he was long used to now, and her contracting muscles that ran along the back of his neck was something he’d found comfort in, like a massage. Manipulating her body he brought her head up level with his, face to face, studying her intricate patterning. A small smile spread across his face as he remembered when he’d first been given her, trying to force her around to see him, but that was never how it worked, she was stronger than she appeared. He never succeeded in getting her to look at him, instead he usually received a good constricting his uncle had to rescue him from.
Kissing her on the crown of her head, Joe then turned his attention back to the blue/white screen. Reah was standing in the corner grasping the broom again and darting short glances to where Darling was under the shelving racks. He was surprised she’d actually attempted to get her for all the hate she seemed to have against her. A lot of things he’d seen her do on the security tape had forced him to review his opinion of her. She was a real asset, the sole security that had worked to fight off the offenders. For the past three days Joe had kept the store closed and it wasn't going to open today either, not only because of the repair that had to be done (although in total it wasn't all too bad once you got started, it was finished now), but he was left wide open to any enemies that would come after him if he attempted running the store on his own.
Sam had rung up yesterday afternoon to tell him that Reah wouldn’t be in because she was sick, which hadn’t made Joe very happy. Not that he felt bad at yelling at Sam because she was sick; it had actually made him feel a bit better. *And why the hell was Sam the one to ring up? They’re not living together!…are they?* He felt a stab of jealousy and assured himself of the personality clash. "How funny!" he mused, smirking to himself. Sam was definitely not Reah’s type, she’d sooner gut him than fuck him. However, the situation still gnawed persistently at the back of his head.
He needed Reah at work, but her being sick was something he’d never counted on. Sam also still worked here but only on a casual call basis, plus he had that other job now too. The problem was evident, and the solution painful. He needed at least one other employee, one that could handle themselves in a situation such as Saturday's events.
Joe sighed and turned about to deal with things that needed to be dealt with, thoughts of who this Paul is, the Reah situation, and how safe he and Darling really were plaguing his mind.
Brinkley delivers the news
Thursday, August 18, 2005. Around 10:00 AM
“Here we go. Listen up, then. Says here, local man expected to drop a sprog. ‘Ultrasound declares, “Congratulations!! It’s a bouncing baby gerbil!!”’ Bloody hell.” Ra folded the LA Spy and grinned his eyes into a squint. “Amazing, the cock and bull humans write, eh?”
“And the cock and bull immortals read,” Brinkley said, glancing over his shoulder at a twister of bodies blowing in from the bookstore. “Mind your cappuccino, brother dear. Something insipid this way comes—”
A passing backpack slammed into her chair. She shielded her five-dollar espresso like a soldier throwing herself on a grenade. “Watch it, children,” she said, her body bent forward, a scalding Rorschach splash dripping off her shirt. “This isn’t a playground.”
“You heard Tank Girl,” one of them said. “Watch your step, ‘children’.”
And another said, “Coolies. There are open tables outside.”
And another: “Good-bye, chemistry. Hello, two weeks vacation.”
Ra raised a fist. “Naff off, you scallywags.”
“And use your inside voices,” Brinkey called after them. "Jesus Christ, puh-lease."
She reseated herself and began fiddling with the blue rubber band off her morning paper. This wasn’t a goddamn brewery. College students were wretched, pretentious scum. Soon they were dishonoring The Bibliophile’s antique courtyard with their strident misunderstandings of Descartes versus Leo Buscalia. Not one of these children demonstrated an inkling of The Idea. They were clueless.
“Pay no mind to those cheeky monkeys,” Ra said over his steaming cup. “They’re just taking the piss on you. You’re far too short to be Tank Girl, right?”
“Gee. Thanks. ‘Short’.”
‘‘Oh you stop it, Brink. You know what I meant. I meant ‘petite’. ‘Wiry’. You’re athletic. You know. ‘The perfect girl’…’’
“I am quite comfortable with who I am.”
“Right, right. Bob’s your uncle. To hell with those stupid gits.”
Ugh, that reminded her. She’d sworn to herself if he said “git” a fourth time, well…
Well that was the fifth time.
Now what?
She stroked the itchy hackles on the back of her neck. What did she care what Ra thought of her? Technically, this wasn’t her body, seeing as twenty years ago she usurped it from a crack baby. She didn’t really have a body. Back when the world was new, she—and her brother—began simply as an idea, a chip off the ol’ God.
Now she needed to figure out exactly how to break the news to him—and would those stupid kids please quiet down? She had a relationship to snuff.
It was Thursday. Summer finals just ended. The noise in the courtyard peaked. Wincing, Brinkley collected her tresses into a bushel, which she strapped with the rubber band and dropped between her shoulder blades. Three curly locks escaped into her face, two more over her bare auburn shoulders. Some jerk started shouting, “Hoo, hoo, hoo,” and Brinkley shot her hand to the grip of the coffee cup. A pinch of her hair had gotten trapped under the Maltese Cross on her ring finger. A green and white strand stood out among the browns. She plucked it, laid it on her napkin, and began smoothing it free of its twists and crooks.
The baboons were hooting in unison. It would be so funny if they failed their exams, the lot of them.
“Gor blimey, luv,” Ra said, shaking his tabloid. “This’ll make you laugh. ‘Are the Olson Twins really space aliens involved in the death of Carmen Electra?’ Carmen Electra, dead? When the bloody hell did that happen?”
Gossip traveled fast.
“Yes,” she shouted. She pointed at the article in the LA Times. “This, by the way, is a real newspaper.”
“Says you. Never trust a headline that don’t come with exclamation points, I always say.”
“I’ve never heard you say that.”
“Whatever. Suck on this.” He showed her the middle of page five.
Quickly her attention wandered to the article below it.
“Skeptical?” Ra said. “Don’t you know that love at first sight gives a planet its healthy rotation?”
“I don’t care about your dumb ads,” she said. “I’m reading down at the bottom.”
“Eh?"
He read in silence, then said, “Blimey. The Hansons are finishing their oh-five tour. It says here they’ll be spending their next year in Hollywood. Recording a ska album.”
“Cool.”
“Wankers. I loved The Hansons, too. But this.”
“It beats that surfer crap you’ve been shoving down my throat.”
“‘Crap’, you say? Pillock. You have no taste. And you think you’re qualified to judge me accent.”
Ra flipped through the pages of his tabloid to find the rest of the article.
“So,” Brinkley said, “are we going to get down to work today, or must I endure another trip to Knott’s Berry Farm?”
“There we go, page eight.” Her brother tapped the publicity photo of Zachary, dressed in a black suit, a pair of shades, and a red Bosstones tie. “I call this a great disturbance in The Force,” he said. “Sounds like a job for our Platinum Gold regime.”
Maybe it was all the damn noise, but did she hear him say their Platinum Gold regime? “You can’t possibly think sweet Zachary Hanson is infected,” she said.
“Almost sure of it now. There was this, like, little voice in me head whispering that the Long Beach girl was significant. And this ska travesty, pretty radical for a bunch of wallies, don’t you agree?”
“Doesn’t mean they’re carriers.”
“It’s settled then.”
“What’s settled? I didn’t agree to—”
“I’ll become their manager. And you, luv, you should start scouting out all the Hanson wannabes. We have a CD to keep out of circulation.”
“Fine. But what makes you think you get to be manager?”
“Oh, you know how it is. Once I give them wankers me line of cock and bull, they’ll get the idea right quick to hire me.”
He was missing the point, so she raised her voice. “What makes you think I don’t want to be manager this time?”
“You? Band manager? But I’m always manager.”
“Which is why you should play the talent scout,” she said. “It’s my turn to be manager. It’s called give-and-take, Ra. I mean are we partners or what?” She hoped his answer would be “or what.” His jerky behavior would make what she had to do a lot easier.
“But won’t switching roles, like, do something to ruin our shtik? You love playing the talent scout.”
“Is that what you think?”
“It’s what you do best. I’m the brain-sucking guy. You’re the liaison chick, the people person.”
“I hate people.”
Specifically, at this moment, she hated a certain congregation of college students. One of them very clearly said her name; that is, he said “Tank Girl” and cackled. They were all cackling. Brinkley couldn’t hear herself think. She cupped her ears and leaned toward Ra; he cupped his lips and leaned toward her.
Ra shouted, “No, you love people, remember? You’re always defending the human race.”
“Sure,” she shouted back, “long as I don’t have to talk to any of them.”
“You’re daft as a bush. We must consort with humans. Where The Idea goes, we follow.”
“Nowhere in my job description does it say I have to do any more than keep it from destroying life, the universe, and everything.”
“No, but where’s the fun in that? It's what humans do with The Idea that keeps it interesting. Open your eyes. You just might like what you see. It’s good for a laugh, at least.”
“I’ve seen the best humanity has to offer. It amounts to the pyramids, Kotex pads, WD-40, and duct tape. The rest is falderal.”
“But what about the intangible?”
“What? I didn’t hear that,” she said, trying to cover her ears and listen at the same time. Why wasn’t the Bibliophile clerk doing something about the noise? Maybe she was out to lunch. “Speak up.”
“The intangible things,” he said louder. “Mercy, altruism, love. I’d like to see your precious pterodactyls come up with that. What about true love, like you and me got? Righty-right? Like you and me?”
She froze. Why did he have to say that? It made her tense, and it made her job harder.
"Brinkley?"
But they couldn’t keep hollering over two feet of table like this. She fumbled for her Betty Boop lunch box, undid the latch, and dove into the flotsam. She couldn’t find a pen — but whatever, something, anything. She opened a purple lipstick and, breathing erratically, scribbled FORGIVE ME on her napkin.
He read it and frowned. Maybe he understood, maybe he didn’t.
She nodded sadly.
He shrugged and, when she refused to reply, exhaled into his palms. He threw her a blank expression through his fingers.
She shook her head, sadder still.
As the light left his eyes, an insidious shame tripped through Brinkley’s system, and she considered changing her mind. It was only the chatter of the college students that kept her focused; one of them launched into a Monty Python routine using the worst British accent she’d ever heard, worse than Ra’s, by far. This served to remind her that the great and ancient Ra Davis could never be more than a child. He weighted her down. It was selfish, it was even blasphemous, but Brinkley knew that it had to be plainly stated:
“I’m leaving you, Ra.”
His expression seemed to say, “Pardon? I didn’t quite catch that. Speak up.”
“I am leaving you,” she said.
He wiped his mouth and shouted, “You mean leaving this café. To start scouting out The Idea. Righty-right. Enough dillydallying. Time to get down to business.” He began shuffling the LA Spy as if it were a stack of legal papers, but Brinkley suspected he’d heard her loud and clear.
“Ra, do you understand what I’m telling you?”
Rubbing his ears, he said, “Blasted loudmouthed twerps. I can’t hear you. Let’s get out of here.”
“Don’t ignore this.”
“Good news, Brink. I was just thinking. Thinking that you were right. You should be manager this time. I should play the scout. Fair is fair, partners are partners.”
Lord, he was in serious denial.
She said, “Repeat after me: Brinkley. Is. Leaving. Me.”
“The first thing we need to do is find a phone book--”
“Fucking-A,” she shrieked, “I’m breaking up with you, goddamnit.”
Turning heads snaked like dominoes around the room and out into the courtyard. Brinkley sat panting, horrified at her outburst. Ra sat motionless. The clerk from the Bibliophile appeared at the annex between rooms to see if everything was okay. Three of the college students pressed their faces against the window; the others gathered at the open door. Outside, a car honked. Inside, a spoon clanked a saucer.
Brinkley closed her eyes. “I can’t be your lover anymore,” she whispered.
Ra squeaked his chair away from the table. “You don’t want… to love me?”
“I can’t. Not anymore. Not in the way you’re used to.”
“You don’t find me attractive? I can give up the bleach-blond beach look, you know, if that’s all it is.”
“That’s not all it is.”
“I don’t want to hear this.”
“You’re my brother,” she said. “That will never change.”
“Please don’t.”
“I’m sorry. But this doesn’t mean we won’t see each other. We can still be—”
“Don’t you dare. Don’t you dare say it.”
“Partners. I was going to say we can still be partners.”
“But never friends.” He moaned, and his neck turned to rubber.
The customers around them returned to their private conversations. Seeing that everything was okay, the clerk returned to her register. The college students disappeared from the window. Everyone kept their voices at a reasonable volume.
“Oh, I get it,” Ra said, “I think I get it. Cute.”
“What, Ra? What do you get?” Whatever it was, based on his tone, it was the wrong idea.
“You want someone new. Bloody right? This is your way of getting rid of me so you can start lusting after some other bloke.”
“For God’s sake.”
“I was right about one thing. We do need to find you a phone book, don’t we?”
“I don’t want anyone else, you retard, come on. Especially a human male.”
“So shall we ring you up a female, then?”
“Believe me, I don’t want anybody."
"Everybody wants somebody."
"Love is the last thing on my mind. Space, on the other hand, breathing room — now that would be nice.”
“You kick me in the bum. Tell me you don’t want love, like you have a say in the matter. But mark my words. It will happen.”
“People do not fall in love like it’s some spark out of the blue. You have to want it, and I don’t want it."
"Bollocks."
"It’s something you have to allow.”
“The Idea has a mind of your own. You’ll feel what it wills you to feel. I shouldn’t have to explain that to you.”
She accidentally smiled at the silliness of it. “Fortunately, very few humans are that infected with The Idea,” she said. “And anyone who is, is not someone I need to be getting involved with.”
“You’re tempting fate.”
“So sue me.”
“I would if I could.”
“I’m sorry about this. I know you’re hurting. I’m hurting too. But you must know that I do love you. I will always love you.”
“Lookie you. We’re enlightened beings, moguls of fresh ideas and all. And you sit before me spouting clichés. Glad you prepared for this speech. What did it take you, a whole three seconds?” Ra’s voice cracked. “Shit, you tell me you get to choose your feelings? Then I guess that means you choose against being in love with me.”
Brinkley sighed. “Watch yourself,” she said. "Your accent is slipping.”
“No, no, I really do get it now. You’ve been in that girl’s body too long, that’s what it is. Allowed yourself to become too human. I shouldn’t have let you grow up from a baby. I shouldn’t have let you spend too much time in one spot. We should have hopped bodies before leaving Shreveport, I knew it.”
“It wouldn’t have made any difference.”
Moments passed.
“I’m still here,” she said. “It’s not like I’m leaving your life.”
Just his heart.
“If you’re right here,” he said, “why do I have this burning desire to get you back?” He sipped his cappuccino. “Fuck it, I don’t know. We can be together again, can’t we? Maybe, is it possible someday? Please say it’s possible.”
“I can’t promise that.”
“I didn’t ask for a promise. You’ve already broken your covenant. I’m asking for an admittance of possibility.”
“I don’t know.”
“You don’t know. Is it so hard to imagine that one day when we’re no longer human, maybe when we’re dwelling in the bodies of cockroaches, maybe you’ll love me then?”
She took his trembling hand. “Maybe,” she said.
“Well, ‘maybe’ is better than ‘I don’t know’.”
“I suppose it is.”
“Well, there's a happy day. Glad to know we can still suppose together.”
“Brother dear,” she said softly, “you’re going to make such a handsome cockroach someday.”
“Damn straight about that.”
“Now if you’ll excuse me, I’ve got some talent to scout out.”
Ordo Virtutis: Rumours
An Inn in Germany
13th Century
Thunder cracked outside as the lone and weary traveller approached the inn on horseback, heavy rain falling. Arrangements for lodging that evening had already been made, the stable boys recognizing the cloaked customer, his body barley visible. A gloved hand handed the reins of the horse to one of them, allowing it to be led away while he approached the door to the inn. It was fortunate for the lone rider that the innkeeper was one of the few who was willing to deal with demons, but that did not mean some precautions had to be taken.
Lamps burned and a fire blazed in the common room. The innkeeper was a large, portly fellow who stepped out from behind the bar to greet his newest guest. Mostly humans were in the inn, though the occasional demon could be seen. Two barmaids carried ale to various guests amidst card games and boasting of stories, as a troubadour sang. “Good evening, Sir Alaric!” said the innkeeper, as the orange skinned demon removed his cloak.
Alaric’s dress was different back then. Were it not for his orange skin, he could easily pass for a middle class merchant, well enough to afford travelling but dangerous looking enough to not be worth the trouble of harassing. Many robbers had already made the mistake of challenging him. “Burkhard, your finest,” said Alaric, handing him the cloak to be dried. Burkhard knew how to care for his good customers.
“Of course,” replied Burkhard, as Alaric glanced around the room before finding a place to sit. Burkhard personally returned with a flagon of ale for the orange demon. Moments later, he was sitting back and relaxing in the inn. For a time, he allowed himself to relax, enjoying the sounds of the troubadour’s singing. Alaric recognised the tune well, losing himself in the song of Walther von der Vogelwiede.
“Allerêst lebe ich mir werde,
sît min sündic ouge siht
daz hêre lant und ouch die erde
der man vil der êren giht.”
“You had best be careful, Sir Alaric,” said a female demon, sliding into the chair across from him. Like him, she gave the appearance of being better off than most, only she had grey, cracked skin and dark blue eyes, raven black hair swinging loosely around her shoulders.
The orange demon looked positively embarrassed. “I heard you coming, Erzelanda.” Even caught up in the pleasure of the music, Alaric could not drop his guard. No demon could and survive for a long time.
“Well, I see what they say of you is true,” she said, as though he said nothing. “Tell me, do you really aspire to be human? Is that why you listen to their music?”
“I listen to their music because I enjoy it.” Alaric could feel a wave of anger rising up within him, then beat it back down. Really, he had no use for the humans one way or the other. But, if they were going to produce things pleasing to the ear, why shouldn’t he listen to them?
“Well, you’re young yet for your kind,” replied the other, crossing one leg over another. It was, Alaric thought, a rather human gesture, one that if he called her on would earn a good thrashing. “Barley a century of life in you, with a millennium to look forward to. The outcast, shunned by his own kind for his… tastes… in enjoyment.”
“So says the demoness shunned by her kind for her inane theories. Tell me, Erzelanda, how does it feel to be part of a race of knowledge keepers who find you and your ‘Order’ absurd?”
Erzelanda shuddered at the mention of her research. She motioned to Burkhard, who quickly brought over ale for her as well when he saw who she was with. The Tselendi were a race of scholars and scribes, preserving lore of various groups and texts. “That’s why I wanted to see you. I think I may finally have proof that this Order of Valour does exist.”
Alaric drummed his fingers slowly on the table. She had said that two or three times before in the years he had known her, but it always amounted to little more than hearsay. “You want my help, don’t you? Very well, then, let’s hear it. What proof do you have for your invisible hand guiding the demon races?”
Erzelanda told him, and she seemed to beam at the surprised look on Alaric’s face. She had actually found the Codex Waldur, the journal said to chronicle the demon war of the Third Crusade. If what she was saying about it was true, several figures appeared to have manipulated the war to ensure that when it did happen, the maximum amount of carnage occurred. “That does seem a little hard to swallow,” Alaric admitted at the end. “Still, I suppose we outcasts must stick together. What do you plan to do now?”
“I don’t know,” Erzelanda admitted. “I’m thinking of leaving, searching them out, finding out their plans. Until I can return, I want you to hold onto the codex for me.” She passed a small satchel across the table, which Alaric accepted as they drank and listened to the troubadour sing. They parted company again after that evening.
It took almost another century for them to meet again. Alaric remained in Germany for the better part of that century, still regarded as odd by other demons. Unlike most of them, at this point he was indifferent as far as humanity went. They were the dominant species by sheer force of number, and saw the attempts by some to exterminate them as misguided. While it would be nice to be on top, clever demons could find ways to prosper, despite having to hide in the shadows.
One day in 1375, Alaric was riding along the road while out of work again. The life of a mercenary was agreeing with him, even though he was presently out of work. A shield now hung from his left arm, with a two-handed broadsword at his side. As usual, the hood of his cloak was up, to attempt to conceal his identity. Off in the distance, he could make out two figures on horseback engaged in a mounted battle. One of them was definitely human, but the other… he caught a flash of grey skin.
Alaric spurred his horse forward, drawing his sword easily. The other demon keeled over, falling from the horse. Before the knight could strike the death blow, he was distracted by Alaric’s arrival. Their swords met in a series of fierce blows, ending only when the demon struck the knight with a blow of sufficient strength to remove his head. Turning back to the other demon, he became pleasantly surprised while the two horses fled. “Erzelanda! It has been far too long.”
“Sir Alaric?” she said, trying to focus her eyes and pull herself to her feet. Erzelanda did not bother to dust herself off, instead looking around hopelessly for her horse. “It is good to see you one last time before I die. You were right about the Order. They do not seem to exist.”
Alaric considered her words carefully, reaching down his hand and helping the other demon onto the back of his horse. They could get away with riding double for a while. Sheathing his sword, the horse began to carry them both down the road again. “I should rather think you were right, though sadly the Codex was lost to fire several years after we parted company.”
“No,” Erzelanda replied again, her voice weak. “I have spent the better part of a century in a pointless quest.”
They continued on in silence for several minutes as he thought. The Codex was the best evidence she had found that the Order did exist. Which was when he remembered just how much her race prided seeking knowledge. “Hardly pointless,” he said. “You must have learned a great deal of history, and about various races, while investigating this Order. Even if it does not exist, surely this is of some value.”
She said nothing. As night approached, they reached an inn where Alaric knew they could stay. He took care of the arrangements for lodging personally, having to help Erzelada to the room. How long did her kind live? He found that he did not know, but suspected that she was near the end. The next morning, he learned that his old friend had passed away.
Kimmie's wardrobe provided by Louisa Thacker Lmtd.
Thursday, August 18, 2005.
Noon.
Skyscrapers, heart of the financial district and vital to the city skyline, glittered in the standing sun. Albert Hesch shielded his eyes and wondered if they had a public john atop the fifty-five story giant at 333 Hope street. It was as if the building promised to squash him, reach down and take his young lady as its bride. Couldn’t run—he was full of beer and burgers. Couldn’t tell Kimmie to run—she’d never drop her precious bags. Two bags were from Frederick’s, two were from Hot Topic, and one really fat one was from the grandly reopened Louisiana Belle Starr.
11 AM.
She posed before the three-faced mirror. Swaying slightly, she said, “What do you think of this one, honey?”
What did he think? It looked like a black dress. He squeezed her thin hips while kissing her neck. "I dig it," he said, trying to avoid his big fat reflection, bouncing back at him from three directions. "I would have chosen this same one." Sometimes he hated being such a liar. He didn’t know it was a sequined Matthew Williamson strapless, cut in at the waist. But he'd know in a minute.
10:30
“What do you think of these? Oh, honey, aren’t they just dreamy?”
What did he think? They looked like black shoes, for chrissake. He didn’t know they were 3-inch-heel Pradas with ankle straps. Yet.
"Now I need a dress to go with them," she said.
"Didn't you just buy a skirt at that sidewalk sale?"
"Not for these shoes."
"You need a whole new dress for black shoes?"
"Oh, Al. You're so cute sometimes." She pinched his cheek hard and left it glowing. "They're Pradas."
10 AM
“Mmm. Cherry gloss mascara. Won’t this go wonderfully with my hair?” she said.
Oddly enough, yes. She looked like a redhead under the store lights.
“Al?”
“Sure, sure, your hair. Put it in the basket, let’s buy it.”
"Are you patronizing me?"
"Nope."
"Aw. You’re spoiling your little snuggly-bunny, aren't you?"
“Skyscraper’s the limit, babe.”
Although Hesch didn’t know it at the time, her nappy hair was in fact “tousled” to perfection. Her clasp purse and unassuming stud earrings were painstakingly chosen. By noon, she'd teach him. Apparently, it was important to their future that he appreciated these things.
She widened her fingers and the open package of mascara slipped into the wicker basket. “I love you,” she said. “I’m going to look so sexy for you. Did you check on our reservations at Little Tokyo?”
"Five o'clock."
She pursed her cherry lips and said, "So?"
"So they're for five o'clock."
"No. How does it look?"
"Your lips look fine."
She shook her head. "You have a lot to learn about women."
Maybe. But as long as he kept slapping down the Discover card, she'd learn to deal with it.
Afternoon
The sidewalk outside 333 Hope Street.
To Albert Hesch she looked like a dingy broad in a black dress and high heels with some guck on her face and uncombed hair. He didn’t care, either, long as he got to show her off during dinner and get her off afterwards for dessert. But he knew better than to vocalize these feelings after spending all morning paying for Kimmie's indulgences. It was up in the air now. The slightest misstep and he'd be sleeping empty-handed tonight.
He said, “My god. You look stunning. I really dig the Pradas. Those...those are some really good...good Pradas."
“Oh,” she cried, throwing her thin white arms around his neck. “We’re going to be so happy when we get married.”
“Yeah,” Hesch said. “Whatever you say, babe."
He'd learned his lessons.
"I love you," she said.
"Careful, careful."
"My poor baby. You still need to go potty, don't you? Don't you? Aw."
There was Best Western Inn up the street. It would have a bathroom. And it would have a bed. Maybe they would just have to skip dinner. But he heard the continental breakfast was to die for. He scooped Kimmie into his arms and squeezed. They started walking.
*Ho-o-o-o-o-onk!*
Frozen by the clamor, holding each other tightly, they looked back.
It was Madeline, her engine idling. She was in the middle of the street. Cars streamed around her. The honking came from them. Hesch wasn't going anywhere without Madeline.
Season Two: Aug 6 2005 - Jan 6 2006
Thursday, August 18, 2005, early afternoon.
Bowen was meeting his friends down at a café. He'd promised them he'd make up for his disappearance the night before. As he arrived round the corner, his friends Johnny, Rob and Ed were waiting for him. After a hearty punch in the arm had been exchanged between them all, they sat down at a table and ordered drinks.
It was not long before the conversation had strayed onto the subject of Bowen's departure. They all wanted to know about the mysterious young woman who had taken him away so early in their evening.
"Yeah, 'cause we was all set to be out for the night and then suddenly this medieval minx turns up and offs wiv yah," drawled the ever so literate Ed.
"Hey!" Bowen tried protesting. Minx was definitely not a word he would use to describe Mantheana.
"Yeah, I mean we never even met this chick in the busty princess dress and then suddenly you're like, taking her back to your place." Rob made a sly but stupid grin. "How did that go anyway?"
"None of your business!" Bowen could see where this was going.
"You get her in the sack?" Johnny of the one-track mind butted in.
"Hey shut up! No as a matter of fact! It's not like that ok? She's not a slut!" It really aggravated him to hear Mantheana talked about like this. He didn't know why. He wouldn't have got too angry if someone had said Ed was a prostitute. Thinking about it, he would probably be the one to call Ed a prostitute.
"Oh you're playing the 'wait' card then. Ver' smooth. Do you think she's worth it? How long do you think you can wait for some hot, twenny something bitch?" Rob chucked.
"Of course she's worth it!" Shouted Bowen. "I mean no! There's nothing going on between us." *Well, not on her part anyway.* "It's not a card I'm playing! She's been through some shit ok? I'm not going to push her into something. She has a kid for crying out loud!"
"What? She's a fuckin' Momma? Now tell me she's not some easy. You don't just take some girl home you don't think nothin'll happen wiv. Single Mommas, you know something has happened there before! Betcha you'll 've 'ad 'er by next week."
"What? No! Listen, one kiss does not mean there's anything going on ok? We-"
"Oh, kiss is it?"
"Well... not exactly. Anyway why am I defending my friend to you guys? You don't listen and all you think of is sex. I'm gonna go now unless you are gonna talk like you're not sixteen!" By this point in time Bowen was pretty heated. The trio mumbled their apologies and he sat down.
"So," Rob started. "What's 'er name then?"
Season Two: Aug 6 2005 - Jan 6 2006
Wednesday, 17th August 2005 – 11:30am
The apartment seemed suddenly very empty again. Just knowing that Victor was in the next room had made it come alive for a few hours, but now Tash was feeling at odds with the quiet. She scrunched up the shopping bags that had contained the XXXL clothing she'd managed to find for Victor. Luckily, their theory had worked and once he'd donned them they looked more or less all right.
It was too early for training - she didn't have the mental quietude necessary anyway right now - and there was only so much pointless tidying a person could do. Then Tash recalled the scent wafting through the corridor when she'd returned with Victor's new clothes. Baking. A smile crept onto Tash's face. That could only mean one thing - Jade hadn't gone to XY today. Suddenly feeling rather more cheery, Tash grabbed a bottle of wine from the fridge and decided it was high time she had a proper chat with her first LA friend.
Jade sang softly along to the radio as she peeked at the apple pies she had inside the oven. The crusts were turning a lovely golden brown and the apartment smelled heavenly. Idly, she wondered how long it'd be before the scent lured Sorrow out of the bedroom - the last she checked, he was still burrowed under the quilt.
Grinning, Jade decided that she'd let him sleep for another hour before she booted him out of bed; she wanted to take one of the apple pies over to Tash's apartment first, see if they could get a little girl chit-chat done. Mentally, she crossed her fingers. The pie was also a peace offering of sorts... *A I'm so sorry I haven't called you even though I heard you're going through hell right now present. Hopefully, Tash won't hold a grudge.* Jade didn't think her friend would; it just wasn't in Tash to be so petty but she figured bribing Tash's sweet tooth wouldn't hurt.
Satisfied that her baking was going as planned, Jade settled down comfortably on the couch and was in the midst of lighting a cigarette when a knock distracted her. Leaving it unlit, she opened her front door. "Tash!"
Tash grinned at her friend's surprise. The aroma of apple pie assaulted her nostrils and made her mouth water. *Damn, knew I forgot something. Breakfast.* Tash flushed slightly at the delicious memory of what she'd had in place of breakfast.
"Hi, Jade," she said brightly, "I hope it's not a bad time, but I just wanted to pop in and see how you were doing." She held up the bottle, "I come bearing gifts."
"Damn! You beat me to it! I've got a pie in the oven with your name on it!" Jade threw her arms around Tash and hugged her tight. "I've missed you... Ok, that sounds silly since it's only been a few days since I last saw you but I really have missed you. I've been back over a week and we've barely had a chance to talk!"
Jade took the bottle from Tash and ushered her into the lounge. Disregarding the fact that it wasn't even noon, Jade grabbed a bottle opener and two wine glasses from the kitchen before she joined her friend on the couch. The silence between them lingered till both of them had a full glass of wine in front of them. Meeting Tash's eyes, Jade took both Tash's hands in her own and squeezed lightly. "How've you been?"
Tash breathed in deeply and let the air out slowly. "To be honest, I'm not really sure. I guess you could say I've had my ups and downs recently." The memory of the raging argument she'd had with Sorrow in this very flat a few nights back came back to her forcefully. "I've been a little... emotional lately. But," her manner became offhand, "that's neither here nor there. What have you been up to? Sorrow didn't say much about your goings on." Tash found herself picking up her glass and gazing into it to avoid Jade's eyes.
*If things have been as bad as Tris told me, then "a little emotional" would really be the understatement of the year...* A little disturbed at how Tash avoided talking about her problems, Jade took a sip from her own glass of wine before replying.
"I've been busy setting XY to rights. No excuse for my gross neglect of my friends of course," Jade smiled sheepishly, "but I'm trying to get everything done so that XY can reopen its doors at the end of the month and it's proving to be a lot more work than I bargained for. Not surprising, considering how Jem and company trashed it the last time."
"Well, if anyone's got to be sorry for 'gross neglect', I'm afraid it's me," Tash responded. *Especially in certain quarters,* she thought. How had she not seen how cavalier her treatment of Victor had been?
"But my time hasn't been wasted - I've been hunting a lot. One of my catches was Jem's lieutenant. That ought to even up the score a little, I'm sure. Though I've yet to get hold of the bitch herself." Tash made a wry face. She swirled her glass a little and took a sip of wine before putting the glass back down. *Better wait until I have some food in me.*
Sorrow awoke to the scent of cinnamon and apples. He stretched a little then stopped as he heard Tash's voice. *Well, Jade is baking...* He got up wrapped a robe around himself and padded toward the bathroom. "Morning Tash," he called just before entering the bathroom. Jade and Tash heard the shower start to run.
"Hmph... I like that! Morning Tash... What am I? Chopped liver?" Jade made a face in the direction of the bathroom and grinned impishly at Tash before saying , "Tris and I got into a little spat yesterday about him concentrating too much on hunting. Can't say I enjoyed the argument but the making up bit was fun. Does Victor complain about all the time you spend away at night?"
Tash blanched. "Uh, yeah. In fact, we had more than 'a little spat' about it on Monday night." Her guts contracted reflexively just thinking about that awful fight. "It turned out to be crossed wires, but for a few hours I thought he was really leaving me," she swallowed, "for good."
Her eyes closed against the remembered pain. Speaking to the comforting darkness, she continued, "But he was actually talking about just going into hiding while Xavier was around." She opened her eyes and smiled wanly at Jade. "And yeah, a large part of it was about hunting."
*And the rest that goes with it,* she thought.
Swallowing her surprise and contrition at having brought the topic up, Jade leaned over and hugged Tash. "I'm sorry... I didn't know." She patted Tash's leg comfortingly as she sat back. A flutter of anger, directed at that still-faceless hunter called Xavier, had Jade's stomach clenching. *He swaggers in here and our lives get all messy…*
Outwardly though, Jade tried to remain calm. There was no point in getting Tash all riled up now, especially if her temper was as fearsome and as volatile as Tris had said it was. "One thing I don't quite get. You've always hunted. Even when you and Victor first got involved, you hunted on a regular basis. He didn't seem to have a problem with it then. In fact, I got the impression that he encouraged it. How come problems are surfacing now?" Sorrow had told her about Tash and Ohenewaa but Jade wanted to hear Tash's opinion and watch for any reactions herself.
Tash looked at Jade sharply - the association Jade had made in her mind came through clearly. A familiar hot feeling rose in Tash's belly and the words came out of her mouth before she could stop them. "Sorrow's been feeding you his line of bullshit, hasn't he?"
Tash forced herself to stop and gritted her teeth to keep the hateful words inside. They were there, ready to spill out once more. Just like Monday night with Victor. Just like Saturday night with Sorrow. "Ugh, Jade, I'm sorry," she managed to grind out.
"There's no need to apologise." Jade was slightly taken back. The violence that had shone out of Tash's eyes the minute Ohenewaa's name came up was dark and almost frightening. "Yes, Tris has spoken to me. He's worried about you. I've heard what he's had to say; now I'm waiting to hear what you've got to say. Tell me what's wrong, Tash."
Tash looked at Jade with haunted eyes. For a split second, for just the most infinitesimal fraction of time, Tash saw it all clearly. Ohenewaa. The memories that she hated and had buried. They weren't gone after all. They lurked in the back of her brain like a monster in its lair. Then the moment of clarity was gone. It was as though it had never been, like the gossamer threads of a dream that evaporates upon waking.
"What's wrong?" she repeated hollowly.
The fury wanted her to scream, to say that what was wrong was all her so-called friends butting their noses into her life, inventing problems for her where there were none. But she let the white-hot anger pass over her and through her, leaving emptiness in its wake. There was no sign any more of the bright, happy Tash who had knocked on Jade's door.
"I honestly don't know what's wrong, Jade. I feel... I feel..." Her arms waved in the air, trying to grasp the words she needed. She looked at Jade helplessly, "I don't know how I feel."
Jade was confused - the myriad of emotions that Tash was going through were so varied and she was bouncing from one to another so quickly that Jade had problems keeping up. One thing she was sure of though, she vastly preferred the fury and the violence that had been present in Tash before to the blank, dead look she saw in her friend's eyes now. Deciding to take the risk, Jade said cautiously, "Whatever you're feeling Tash, at least part of it has got to do with Ohenewaa, doesn't it?"
Tash's nostrils flared. She envisaged her hands around Jade's throat, squeezing... The anger threatened to swamp her, but now at least she had some notion of what it may be. She took in a deep, shuddering breath, her eyes flashing, and opened her mouth to speak.
Sorrow opened the door to the bathroom and winced as he heard Jade's question. *Does she do this on purpose?* He remembered back to the church when he was almost overwhelmed by the vampire. Jade had pushed that situation too. If not for Tash they'd probably be both deep in the darkness right now.
"Don't, Tash." Sorrow spoke softly, trying to project as much calm as he could. Rubbing a towel over his damp hair Sorrow came further into the room.
Tash turned her head to Sorrow, her eyes following slowly after, sliding off Jade's shocked face and onto Sorrow's entreating one. Those few seconds' grace gave her enough time to gather her shredded wits and push the anger down and away. It wasn't gone - she could still feel it as a cold knot in her viscera. But the gleam died from her eyes and she found she could breathe again. She inhaled a few lungfuls of air and nodded to Sorrow before turning back to Jade.
Her voice was carefully controlled, almost a monotone. "Maybe. But it's safest not to talk about it right now. Ok?"
Jade nodded. For now, that had to be enough. According to Tris, Tash had vehemently denied any connection to the voodoo witch before; which would make this a really big step forward in the right direction. "Ok..." Jade said, laying a cool hand on Tash's shoulder. Her eyes met Sorrow's across the room. She knew he was annoyed that she had pushed the issue, but she'd never been one to dodge around a problem. Meeting it head-on was usually more her style.
"I might be able to help you with that," Sorrow said to Tash as he settled onto the sofa next to Jade, "though I'm not sure it won't just move the problem somewhere else, and it won't last of course."
Sorrow hoped Tash would take him up on his offer. It would give her the space to approach the problem rationally without all her rage getting in the way.
Tash looked askance at him. She'd been subject to his impromptu magic just the other night, and though she understood now why he'd done it, it still felt like an attack. "And what exactly," she asked suspiciously, "do you have in mind?"
"A simple calming spell, similar to the one I cast the other night. Though much less abrupt and obviously with your permission." He kept his tone light; pressuring Tash into this wouldn't help, so if it did happen it had to be her choice.
Tash grimaced. "Nice to know at least that you won't force it on me again," she remarked acerbically. She looked away for a second. It had kept the anger at bay, certainly, for a little while. And had helped her think. But it had felt like she was trapped in a dream, unable to move or cry out. She returned her gaze to Sorrow and shook her head slowly, "I'm sorry. No. I don't want that again. It..." She paused. *What do I say? It robbed me of my free will? It made me feel like a puppet?*
“I just can't let you do that, I’m sorry."
Tash's eyes rested on the training room key lying on the table. She stood and scooped it up, unable to contain the jittery feeling that had started to grow from Jade’s questioning.
“I’m afraid I really can’t stay,” she prevaricated, “I’ll have to have some of that apple pie later, Jade. Sorry, but what with worrying about Victor and everything… I think I just need a nap.” She held up the key and offered Sorrow a half-smile, “You’re coming up later?”
Barely waiting to register Sorrow’s nod, Tash made her escape from the apartment and into the haven of the hallway. She breathed in deeply, letting the edginess subside. *And maybe a quick nap isn’t such a bad idea, after all.*
Season Two: Aug 6 2005 - Jan 6 2006
Wednesday, 17th August 2005 – 2:30pm
Tash's knock reverberated along the hallway. She waited for several long seconds, Sam's shoes dangling from her left hand. A second flurry of raps produced no further response, so Tash shrugged and took a couple of steps back to her own apartment. Then a thought struck her - Victor had given Sam the keys to the third floor apartment. Maybe he hadn't finished moving beds down yet. It was worth investigating, at least.
Soon she was standing in front of a fresh door, delivering another series of knocks.
Sam rose to consciousness on angel breaths. Every part of him relaxed as he gazed into the breeze of the ceiling fans. Then a chill ran down his back—so much for that slice of Heaven.
“Come in,” he shouted.
Tash couldn't help but shudder inwardly at Sam's response. She tested the door, and sure enough it wasn't even locked. *Hmm, Lesson Three is going to have to include instilling a healthy level of paranoia in him,* she thought. *Or maybe it's just that he's never had anything happen to make him paranoid before. Lucky bastard.*
The door swung open onto the luxurious appointments of the third floor apartment. Victor had suggested they move into this place when it was first finished, but Tash didn't feel comfortable around too much opulence. She worried it would dull her edge. Her eyes rested on Sam, lying on his back on a richly upholstered sofa in the living room. His aura had lost its wild spikes and Tash grinned, "Looks like you finally got that good night's sleep you needed."
He sat straight up without bending at the knees and with him he carried a smile and the word “yes.” But he quickly frowned. This wasn’t a park bench. It wasn’t his apartment either, and this wasn’t Reah. This was…
He remembered Victor’s graciousness. “Tash? Hi. What… what time is it?”
Tash pushed the door closed behind her and walked to the couch, placing Sam's shoes on the floor. "It's a little after 2:30. I thought I'd return these before you had to start work." Tash looked sheepish. "Sorry we sort of shuffled you out last night, but Victor and I had some... catching up to do." A soft smile played around the corner of Tash's mouth at the memory. She loved just being with Victor - she knew it sounded corny, but he made her feel complete.
She tilted her head at Sam, "So how are you feeling? You're looking much more relaxed than yesterday."
“I feel…” This time he knew just how he felt, a far cry from yesterday which seemed so unreal now, so long ago. “Good. I feel really good.”
He slipped his feet in his shoes. “The keys are over on the table by the door. Gosh, glad you came by. I could have overslept. Would have ruined my perfect record. I’m never late, you know.”
"I'm glad you're feeling better. And really, Victor won't mind if you're a little late for work. But I was wondering how you feel about the training tonight. I have no urgent errands of mercy tonight to distract me."
"I'm all for it."
Tash grinned, "Good, I'll see you in the training room when you get off work, then."
*****
Tash limbered up. She was on the floor stretching her legs when she heard soft movement at the door. "That you, Sorrow?" she called.
"Indeed." Sorrow tried the doorknob and smiled. Locked.
Tash shook out her leg muscles and stood. "Come into my parlour," she said as she opened the door and held it wide.
"You're no spider and I'm no fly..." Sorrow stepped into the room. He had already changed into sweats and had his training bag with him. "I brought a couple of Iaito - thought you might like to do some sword work."
Tash grinned and her eyes lit up, "I'd love to. It's been too long since I practised with the sword." She closed and relocked the door before returning to the centre of the room. "I was just doing my warmups," she commented.
"Give me a sec and I'll join you.” Sorrow set out the blades on the table then joined Tash and began warming up.
*****
It had taken them a little time to work through the kata, Sorrow and Tash had had different masters and they needed to work out the differences. Now, though, they were in a good rhythm and the sweat dripped off both Tash and Sorrow as they practically danced around the training room.
At first, Tash felt slow and clumsy next to Sorrow. It had been some time since she'd really done much with her swords and Sorrow's ability was uncanny. Soon, however, she was at least able to hold her own and keep up with him. After a while they moved almost as one - Sorrow introduced some new moves and Tash was able to provide mirror and counterpoint for them with only a little hesitation. The sword became an extension of her body. Nothing else existed but her body, the sword, and her awareness of Sorrow's motions next to her. Her mind reached that calm point it hadn't felt for months. She was home.
Sorrow finally noticed Tash's breathing was starting to get a little ragged. The quality of her movements hadn't dropped yet but he couldn't push her much further. Sorrow called out the last sequence and they moved smoothly towards a finish. Sorrow smiled at Tash as they reached the end of the exercise. Sheathing their blades they faced each other and bowed. Sorrow remained silent while he caught his breath waiting for Tash to speak.
Tash rolled her shoulders, loosening them up again. Sorrow was looking at her expectantly, but she had no words to describe how she felt. It was like waking up from a bad dream. "You know, this is better than any spell you could have cast on me."
"Good." It hadn't even occurred to him that Tash might find her centre again through the martial arts rather than the magical ones but now it seemed pretty obvious. "Let’s warm down. Then you can kick me around for a while." It was obvious Sorrow had been the better swordsman but without weapons he knew the situations would be reversed.
"Oh, good. Been wanting to thump your arse ever since you zapped me Saturday night." Tash poked out her tongue playfully.
Over the next hour they whirled around the training room, their feet thumping on the floorboards and their hands moving as blurs. Sorrow was bigger and stronger than Tash, but she was used to such opponents. Her agility and speed stood her in good stead. Though Sorrow was no slouch on agility either, she noted wryly as she delivered a devastating kick to the head only to find that Sorrow had somehow twisted out of reach, leaving her no option but to retreat momentarily.
A renewed flurry of blows was punctuated by a tattoo on the door.
Sorrow heard it too and put some distance between himself and Tash. The sparring had been more even than he thought but Tash had definitely had the better of it. With the safety of space Sorrow held up his hands and hoped Tash wasn't feeling too playful. "That's probably Sam."
Tash noted Sorrow's defensive posture and chuckled, "What? Don't trust me?" She moved towards the door, "It's not like I'd," she feinted with a punch to his kidney, "attack you from behind or anything," she said cheekily. Before Sorrow could retaliate she covered the space to the door and called, "Who is it?"
"Me, silly."
Tash opened the door for Sam. "Hi, Silly," she replied. "Come on in. Sorrow's here training with me. You've met Sorrow, perhaps? He stays with Jade."
“Um.” Sam hid his stake behind him. “Hi. No, we’ve never met.”
"No, Sam left before we got a chance to meet. Though Jade told me about you fighting off those werewolves. " Sorrow gave Sam a reassuring smile as he walked across to him. "Hi, Sam. I'm Sorrow, pleased to meet you," Sorrow said as he offered Sam his hand.
Sam moved his stake-bearing hand—then rushed it back into hiding and used his left hand to shake Sorrow’s right. There arose an awkward moment. He didn’t know what to say to this man who looked him dead in the eyes. They were the same height, and Sorrow looked like he could mop the floor with Sam. Sam forced a chuckle. “That Jade sure is a great girl,” he said. “A really great girl. You’re lucky to have her. Oh! And she’s lucky to have you too. Uh, so we’re going to be training together?”
"'Fraid not. That great girl is waiting for me downstairs." Sorrow had glimpsed the stake; Tash had mentioned something about Sam and a stake, and the guy seemed awfully edgy about letting him see it.
Sorrow glanced at Tash then turned back to Sam. "Why don't you start your warm ups while Tash recovers a little?" Sorrow tried to restrain a smirk as he said the last. "I just need to clear up my gear and I'll be out of your hair."
Tash threw Sorrow an evil look. “Recovers?” She dug him in the ribs, “I’m recovered enough, thank you,” she said with mock indignation.
“Oh, okay,” Sam said to Sorrow while watching Tash. “I’m sorry. I was just surprised to see you.” Sam circled Sorrow, keeping the stake out of view. “I wouldn’t mind it if you stayed. It would be neat.”
Sorrow looked at Sam somewhat bemusedly. "You wouldn't mind training with me but I don't get a look at your stake?"
The jig was up. Sam withdrew Thumper and held it to his chest. “I just didn’t… Well, it’s silly. I don’t know you. I don’t want to hand this over to a stranger. It’s precious to me.” Sam remembered how less than a week ago he’d handed Thumper off to Jade, an even stranger ‘stranger’. What had changed? The stake seemed to tremble in his hand.
Sam decided to make a show of faith and said, “Here. You can touch it. I mean, look at it. I don’t mind.”
Tash watched with interest. There was something about the way Sam thought about this stake that seemed odd. She couldn't put her finger on it. As Sam drew the stake forth, she felt faint emanations coming from it. She threw Sorrow a puzzled look, wondering if he'd sensed it, too.
Sorrow felt it. He looked at the silver inlaid on the wood then up at Sam. "May I? " he said, holding his hands out.
Sam hesitated, clearly torn at Sorrow's request. Sam's grip tightened on the weapon then he released it almost convulsively. Sorrow drew his hands back, allowing the stake to merely rest in his hands. Now he was touching it he could feel its power much more clearly.
“I'm not sure but this may be Zhì-mìng-de Shù." Sorrow looked at Sam then handed the stake back to him reverently. "I'd have to check but if it is you're in for some interesting times."
Tash's eyes narrowed slightly. As Sorrow spoke the Chinese words she felt a shiver go down her spine. There was power in this thing. She and Sorrow exchanged a significant look as he left, closing the door behind him, then Tash turned to Sam, “Who did you say gave this to you? Some guy called Hesch, right?"
He held Thumper with both hands, and the hole in his gut filled with something like mud, warm and good. “Shee ming…” he said. He couldn’t pronounce it.
Sam snapped back to reality. “Uh, yeah. Hesch. Al Hesch.”
He decided to wow Tash. He twirled Thumper around his fingers knowing that it would end up in his palm. And it did, for a moment, twirl and find its cradle; however, since Sam didn’t know what he was doing, he quickly lost concentration. Thumper spun away, hit the floor…
And bounced up. He should have expected that by now.
Sam caught it with a look of panic he could not subdue. Which he turned into a grin. “This is Thumper,” he said.
Tash blinked. *Great. Just like that damn sword of Tempest's...* "Sam, that's a powerful weapon you have there. Do you know what else it does? And most importantly, do you trust the person who gave it to you?"
Tash walked with Sam to the bench along the wall. She felt out Thumper's vibrations. They seemed benign enough. Right now. But of course, it wasn't being used right now. She wondered how it felt in a fight.
“Sure, Hesch?” Sam said. “I trust Hesch. Al.” But Sam was thinking, *He acted weird enough with me and Reah on Monday.* “Hesch is my friend. He was the only person in L.A. - before you and Mr. Tek - who actually seemed to care if I lived or died. I trust him. I do.”
The doubt rolled from Sam in waves, belying his words. Tash bit her lip. Nothing else for it. Not if she wanted to be sure, quickly, that Sam would be ok with this thing. She couldn't wait for Sorrow to research it. She held Sam's eye, "Do you trust me?"
He tried to hold eye contact. But Tash had a powerful way about her, and he glanced askew, a shiver scaling his back, rising giddily into his face. Beaming, he exhaled through his nose and said, “Yes. You’re the greatest.”
Tash blushed at the emotion she was feeling from Sam. She had no idea he held her in such high regard. It was a little unnerving; she wasn't used to being thought of as an icon.
"In that case," she said, carefully removing her gloves, "I'd like you to give me the stake." She looked at him frankly. "There's something you need to know. When I touch things with my bare hands I get images. Visions, if you like. Everyone who's come into contact with Thumper will have left an impression. Strong ones I'll pick up. It may tell us a little more about it."
“You get images?” Sam said, not at all sure he understood. He placed his hand on Thumper. “Is that like magic?”
"Not really. It's innate. I'm a psychic, Sam. I can't use magic, but I do have some abilities that most people don't." She held up her hands. "It's why I always wear gloves, even in the hottest weather. Without them, everything I touch produces visions."
She held out one hand, palm up. "Do you trust me?" she asked again.
This time, with her hand extended, he questioned himself. Sure he trusted her. Sure. Sure. This was TASH, after all. It was just that…
“So, Thumper won’t get hurt, right?” he said. “I couldn’t bear it something happened to him.”
Him.
Tash shook her head, "No, Thumper won't be hurt. But I may see things about you in here as well. You've had him for a little while now and you're the most recent person to own it. And I may see things that are disturbing to know about it. But there's power in knowledge, right? Would you rather find out it had a more unpleasant side later on, when it was too late, or now?" She raised an eyebrow and kept her outstretched hand steady.
“No…” Sam held Thumper a little longer. He trusted Tash, but what was the point in this? In his gut he knew that Thumper was good, a part of him. Why look too deep? Letting Tash use her powers to peer into his stake would be like letting her see him naked. He may as well hand over his penis.
Sam pursed his lips. “I don’t understand, Tash. You’re psychic? That must mean you can read minds.” He gave her gloves a terrified look. What about his private thoughts? What about all the racist things he used to think? Sometimes still.
Sam stood, stepped back. Oh no. Oh no, what about the time he saw her nipple? “Just how psychic are you?” he said. “Do you have to touch something with your bare hands to read it? He stared at those hands. Sure the palms were white… but the backs were the dark sides of the moon.
Tash sighed and dropped her hand. "This is why I'm reluctant to tell people. I've spent a good part of my life isolated from people because they don't understand." She looked up at Sam sadly. "I can read strong surface thoughts, and pick up emotions. And right now I know you're terrified. And I'm sorry. I wish it wasn't that way. But this is something I have to live with, and I try to use it to help. You are stronger than you know, Sam. But you can't always do it alone."
She took a step back from him, giving him some space. "I'm still the same person I was. Do you trust me?" Tash was hating this. She hadn't left herself so vulnerable to being hurt in a long time. This was why she'd spent all those years closed off, not letting friends into her life. But LA had changed all that. She'd found a group of people who accepted her. Some even loved her. And she'd forgotten how distrustful people could become of her.
“Trust you? Of course, you bet.” He squinted and let his forehead sweat out the fire in his temples. “And I’m not terrified. I’m good. I’m fine, I’m good.” Sam dropped Thumper. It hit the floor and stayed there. “I’m good.”
*Don’t think, don’t think, do not think.*
Tash deliberately and conspicuously pulled her gloves back on and sat on the bench. She patted the seat next to her. "Sam, it's okay. Please," her voice caught, "please don't let this change how you see me." Tash winced at the pleading tone in her voice.
Sam swallowed and forced himself to step forward, but he did not sit down. He needed the leverage over her, because all this time she had been the advantaged one. “I just want to say one thing. Tash, sometimes I think stuff, you know, but it’s not my fault… it just pops in there. I don’t believe everything I think. It’s like I’ve got these… ideas floating around, but I tell them to go away. Can you understand that? I’m not a bad person.”
"Oh, I know you're not a bad person." Tash temporised a little, "And it's not like I can read you like a book. Really, it's only strong hints and impressions." There, that wasn't too far off the mark.
She gazed at the stake, lying inert on the floor. Her eyes flicked back up to Sam's but he wouldn't hold her gaze. "I didn't have to tell you, you know," she said quietly. "I could have kept it hidden from you. But I consider you a friend, and I wanted to make sure my friend wasn't in danger."
Sam didn’t know what to say to that. His brain was hurting. But she’d said “surface thoughts.” He could control those, right? And Tash was correct:
“You did tell me,” he said, his voice shaking. She could have kept it a secret. “Man. Man. That’s pretty darn… nice.” He used to hate the word nice. He sat next to Tash and smiled, his eyes simmering. “You’re my friend too.”
Tash slowly reached out a gloved hand towards his. He flinched slightly, but didn't retreat. She picked up his hand and held it, squeezing lightly. "Thank you Sam. You don't know how much it means to me that you've stayed." She kept a steady grip on his hand until he started to relax again.
"Tash?"
"Yes, Sam?"
"Can Mr. Tek read minds, too?"
And what about that Sorrow fellow? Then Sam got the idea to test it on the spot. He sniffed up a glob of snot and coughed up a laugh. With his fingers drawn together, he touched his hot temples and thought as loudly as he could, *What about Sorrow? Can he read minds?* He looked to Tash for something amazing to happen.
Tash grimaced. She decided that now was not a good time to tell Sam about Victor. "No, Victor can't read minds," she said, answering his spoken question. She looked askance at him, "Neither can Sorrow, though he has damn good senses and can tell how you feel. And you don't have to do the My Favourite Martian impression either."
"'My Favorite Martian'?" Sam said, but before he closed his mouth he was yawning. This little trauma had drained him.
"Never mind. Old tv show." Tash turned her head and a glitter caught her eye. The silver inlay on the stake seemed to wink at her. *Maybe not today, Thumper, but sooner or later I'll find out what your game is.*
She stood and faced Sam, "So, ready for lesson three?"
“Sure…” But Sam shut his mouth, thinking, *Now, I don’t want you working me too hard.* He snickered. *You know something, this is pretty cool.* He picked up one of the ever-present water bottles, opened it, and started gulping. *Look, Ma. No voice-box.*
Tash rolled her eyes. As soon as she realised he'd started trying to communicate mentally she'd had to open up her barriers to hear what Sam was thinking, since it wasn't full of heightened emotion. She was damned if she was going to work hard psychically all evening.
Her tone was half-serious, half kidding, "Oh, I'm going to make you sweat tonight. And unless you start talking to me again, you really won't have a voice-box any more."
She jerked a thumb over her shoulder. "So go do some warmups and," she looked down at Thumper, "maybe we'll use one of my stakes for your drills."
Somehow, the threat brought them back to equal positions. The awkwardness disappeared. “You bet.” Sam winked and got moving.
Unmarked Helicopters... Hovering
Wednesday, 17th August 2005 – 11:45pm
Galen was immensely glad to be on the ride back to L.A. After three days of being mercilessly questioned by his superiors, one of those days with a major hangover, he was ready to get home. The city looked beautiful from the air as he approached the park where they would set him down, and you would never suspect that demons, vampires and other things that went bump in the night made the city their home. He felt the copter begin its descent, watching the treetops and clearing slowly approach. A few minutes later he felt the familiar sensation of the chopper hovering just a little off the ground.
“All right, time to get out,” the pilot yelled. “Need to refuel for the flight back.” Galen opened the side door and dropped out, feeling the pressure from the blades push him down. He took a moment to get his bearings for the long walk home and picked up his bag while the helicopter began to take off again.
Tash parked her bike on the perimeter of the park. Although she was tired from her training sessions with Sorrow and Sam, she’d been unable to resist the urge to go hunt. Once more she'd headed out a bit from her home turf and she took a few moments to stand at the edge of the wooded section and get a feel for the area.
She readied her crossbow and began to insinuate herself between the trees. She hadn't gone far when the sound of a helicopter grew loud enough to make her take notice. She generally ignored the air traffic in LA - there was so much of it - but this one was coming close. Very close. She frowned, *I don't remember seeing any hospitals nearby.*
The top branches began to whip back and forth under the wind of the chopper's passage. Tash saw a good-sized clearing just ahead and crouched behind a tree to watch. A black helicopter with absolutely no running lights hovered just above the grass. Tash squinted as leaves and dust were blown around in a mini whirlwind. Through slitted eyes she watched a bag drop from the vehicle, followed by a figure. Male, she guessed. As the chopper took off again it picked up the bag then began to walk more or less in her direction. She huddled in on herself, hoping she was in a suitably inconspicuous spot. The figure entered the woods only a couple of tree trunks away from her.
*That aura. Haven't I seen it before?* She shifted slightly to get a better look.
Galen’s eyes gradually adjusted to the light of the evening. Most of the illumination in the park came from the moon, which was, if not full, then almost there. Hopefully, nobody was around to see the landing, whether of natural or supernatural persuasion. It still made good sense to get out of sight as quickly as possible, which was why he started moving towards the woods.
He stopped for a moment. Was that movement? *Better not be. I just want to go to bed.* A cat meowed and moved out of one of the bushes that had moved. Galen smiled and laughed silently to himself. He continued to move silently through the woods again, wanting to curse himself for carelessness when he heard a voice from behind him.
"Well, if it isn't our Agent Eldridge out for a midnight stroll." Tash rose from her crouch, cradling the crossbow so it pointed to the ground. She figured if he pulled a gun she could still fire a bolt through the shoulder before his gun cleared its holster. "What's with the Superspy routine?" Her voice was light, but there was steel underneath.
Galen dropped his bag and turned around slowly. He couldn’t make out her features well in the dark, but the woman seemed vaguely familiar. Then he remembered who she was. Just his luck that someone would observe him landing, and it was doubtful that Tash would do like most and rationalize it away.
“Tash, isn’t it?” he asked, slowly revealing his hands as empty to avoid getting a crossbow bolt. “Just trying to go home, if you don’t mind.”
Tash nodded, his aura confirming that he was telling the truth... so far as it went. "Ok, so you're going home. But that was one hell of a fancy taxi you had there."
She wasn't ready to relax yet, not when she was pushing him on something he was obviously hiding from everyone. *Including Kate, I'm sure.* Kate had talked about Galen - in glowing terms - but Tash had a feeling she was ignorant of the bulk of Galen's activities. *As am I,* she thought. An FBI agent who dealt in the supernatural was one thing, but mysterious black helicopters in the dead of night?
She fixed Galen with a stare, "So I'm asking you again. What gives?"
Galen returned the stare. What did she expect him to say? That he was being flown in from a base in the middle of the desert whose existence was officially denied? For that matter, how much did she know? She knew something about the supernatural elements of the city. “I could ask the same of you,” he said. “Alone, in the middle of the night, carrying a crossbow. That’s not your usual self defence equipment.”
Tash had to concede the point. Galen really knew nothing about her either. *Except that I tend to be in the middle of supernatural shitstorms.* She relaxed marginally and took a couple of steps closer to Galen so they could lower their voices a little.
"True," she nodded. She figured if she wanted anything from Galen she'd have to give a little first. "It's not for self-defence though. I hunt." She looked at him expressionlessly, expecting that he'd have no trouble filling in the blanks.
Hunting. It made sense. There was really only one thing a crossbow was good for hunting, and that was vampires. While there were a few species of demon they worked on, there was not a significant population of them in L.A. Although he was tempted to simply leave, he doubted she would let him leave without an explanation. Only there was no way he could tell her everything about MJ12. “Much of my work is classified. The black helicopters support some of those operations. Which is all I’m allowed to tell you.”
Tash made a wry face, "Well, I figured as much. And don't worry, I don't expect you to tell me state secrets or anything. But I just want to know - are you working for the good guys?" Tash opened her shields as far as she could. She didn't like to do this, but she had to know how far Galen could be trusted.
Working for the good guys was a very interesting question. There was one time when Galen would not have hesitated to answer yes, despite some of the worse things they had to do. Now that he knew about the project, that wasn’t clear. *Majestic has experimented on humans, vampires, and demons, and you expect me to give a yes or no answer without revealing state secrets?* he thought. A new thought came, that she could be involved somehow. If that was the case, saying anything could be dangerous. Maybe a more roundabout answer would satisfy her.
“I helped save your life, and Kate’s. That should tell you something.”
Tash did her best to keep her face impassive. *Fuck! He works for a mob that experiments on monsters? AND humans! What are they doing, trying to make a superweapon?* She took a deep breath, hoping he hadn't noticed her sudden panic before he'd even said anything.
"I know what you've done for me, and for Kate. But that's you. What about your organisation? You don't have to tell me their goals," Tash's mouth quirked slightly at the corner, since he already had in part, "but to put it in an old-fashioned way, are their intentions honourable?"
“The road to hell is paved with good intentions,” Galen said, shaking his head. Supposedly they had honourable intentions, at least the ones they told new recruits. He could see the reasons for covering up the truth; that was easy. The same with some of the control they exerted. It was the Project that made him wonder if he should even be working for these people.
Her change in posture for the briefest of moments caused some alarm in Galen. Cautiously, Galen looked around before continuing. He had to know how much she already knew. “You should know that I work for the FBI. Or is there something you’re trying to imply?”
Tash sighed, "Yeah, well, your ID badge says you work for the FBI. But I've heard of the concept of conspiracies you know - black helicopters in the middle of the night and all."
Suddenly Tash whipped up her crossbow, and Galen could see it was aimed right at him. With a hiss the bolt flew, deadly in its intent.
As Galen dropped to the ground, the vampire that loomed behind him exploded in a cloud of dust. Tash danced to one side. She'd felt the cold shiver of approaching evil as she was talking, and recognised vampire when she felt it. The second vampire had come up on her right and was lunging at the spot where she'd just been.
Her second bolt found its mark, and not for the first time Tash wanted to find the man who'd invented repeaters and kiss him. She felt no more hints of vampire presence so she turned to Galen, letting her crossbow return to its resting position. Even that brief battle had raised her excitement levels, but she clamped down on them firmly. She found herself staring at the barrel of Galen's pistol as he finished regaining his feet. She said nothing; simply stood looking at him and waited.
Even though she had just saved his life, Galen could not help but feel distrust for Tash. For all he knew, she could work for the organization, or security. Command was not patient with his story, looking for holes and contradictions all the time. He would not put it above them to have someone waiting, someone he might be able to trust, to see if he was telling the truth. Aside from Kate, he didn’t feel as if there was anyone he could trust.
“How much do you know?” he asked rather bluntly, and thought, *Please, don’t say anything I’ll have to shoot you for. I’ve had to do enough of that already.*
"All I know is what I've learned from you," Tash said. Which was true, even if he didn’t know about some of the stuff he'd 'told' her. "So, you going to shoot me with that, or put it down? Your arm'll get tired if you just hold it there."
Galen considered Tash carefully. There were certain signs in body language that could let you know if someone was lying or not. She gave none of the common signs, but there was the feeling that she might know more. He remained standing there with the gun trained on her. Tash had the chance to kill him earlier, and didn’t take it. After careful deliberation, he lowered the weapon just enough to point away from her, but enough to defend himself if she tried anything.
“My apologies, but there are certain things one must be cautious about,” he told her. Then he decided to give a word of warning. “It may do you good to be careful who you speculate to about what. Some parts of history are best left buried, and others are dangerous to explore.”
Tash blinked. Galen really meant that. She asked him softly, "If it's so dangerous, why do you work for them?" She shook her head slowly, "Though I guess once you've started with them, you can never really leave. You'd know too much for them to leave you alone. Gods, I thought I had it bad. At least the things that want my soul can be killed."
Wanting your soul was a more than apt way of putting it than she realized. He knew the problems that could arise firsthand. “There is that,” Galen said. “Why do I work for them? You hunt vampires, so you know what’s out there. And I don’t know about you, but we certainly consider things like an apocalypse a threat to national security.”
He stopped, realizing that he had probably said too much. For a moment, he considered that it might be possible that she could be an asset to the organization. If she could be trusted. Only he couldn’t make that offer, not until after he knew the truth.
“Just trust me,” Galen told her. “You don’t want to push too hard on this. Not if you value your safety.”
Tash could feel the depth of Galen's conviction on this. *Yep, rule one - don't piss off the big occult organisations, especially the secret ones. And I've never heard of anything called Majestic.* She nodded, "It's all right, Galen. You've told me bugger all, but I trust that you want what's best. Though I have the feeling that there are elements you're involved with that you're not happy about." She sighed. "I just hope you're not digging yourself in too deep. Especially if you feel you can't unburden yourself to anyone."
She looked around the wooded area they were standing in. "I've got two vamps for the night. Do you want a lift anywhere?"
Galen put his pistol away and was about to turn down the offer when he let out a rather large yawn. “As I said, was just trying to go home. It’s a good two-hour walk to the apartment building from here though. I wouldn’t want to impose.”
Tash shook her head. "No imposition. Though I have to warn you, I have a bike rather than a car." She laughed, "Which means you'll be behind me. It's perfect for you."
She turned her back to him and started walking towards the edge of the park. After a moment she heard Galen pick up his bag and follow.
-----Mariah is played by Kristen------
Thursday, August 18, 2005. 2:36 AM
Mariah reached out with her senses, touching Sam's dreams and effortlessly pulling him into hers. As the Brotherhood grew in strength, her powers grew as well. Her reach extended farther and farther each night. She had been careful to leave Sam alone with his own dreams for a night, allowing him to rest and conserve his strength. Mariah loved that Sam was so needy. It made him the perfect dupe for her plans. Soon she would walk the world again; a goddess, with Sam her faithful lapdog at her feet. For now, though, it was important to build Sam's faith in himself, just enough to enable him to accomplish her goals. Mariah considered the man as she brought him into her realm. His father, his wife, all the myriad people in his life had worked to destroy Sam's sense of himself. In so doing they had created the most malleable of men and she was going to mold him.
Mariah warped the space around her, creating a warm, sunny beach. She sat on a towel, under an umbrella, beside Sam. "Hello, Sam," Mariah said softly, smiling up at him.
His eyes had been closed against the cold wind rushing off the surf when she arrived, bringing with her the heat and love of the sun. He looked around. The water had turned calm, the clouds had dissipated, and Mother was here. Finally.
“You said you’d take me sailing today,” Sam said. “Are we going sailing, Mother?”
Mariah smiled indulgently. "Yes, Sam, of course," she replied. "Are you sure that's what you want to do?"
“Yes, please, very much. I’m afraid though. I don’t know how.”
"I will teach you," Mariah said, taking his hand. She rose, pulling him along, and stepped carefully towards the water. "You must only trust me. Stay near me, and don't let go," Mariah instructed as they stepped off the sand and onto the water, only their feet did not grow wet. They stood on the deck of a ship made of clear crystal, the water below them crisp and blue. The ship flew over the water and Mariah laughed in delight. "Is this what you wanted, Sam?"
Excitement ran through him. He threw his hands up, palms exposed, and his elbows came together. “The sky…it goes on forever!” he said. “Yes. Let’s go, let’s go!”
Mother loved him. And Sam loved her for taking him out into the wild blue sea. He found a damp seat at the bow and watched her. She would teach him everything there was to know about the vast world that lay beyond.
Mariah let Sam enjoy the play of water and ship. She pointed out the fish, the dolphins, the birds, giving him knowledge. The flight over the sea seemed to go on forever, but finally something glittered off the horizon. A city rose out of the depths. It was ivory and gold, burnished and brilliant. The spires and towers soared majestically above the water.
"We have come, at last," Mariah told Sam, as the ship came to rest near a shimmering dock.
Sam was disappointed. He’d wanted to stay in the boat. At least for a little longer. He gave her a sad face, but nodded. “Where are we? Is this home?”
Mariah nodded, helping him off the ship. They walked arm in arm through the city streets, empty and lifeless, as Mariah spoke. "As it was, once," she said. "This was the place of my first birth. A city of shining beauty and terrible magic. Alas, as all constructs of man, it fell." Mariah stopped in front of a temple, watching Sam quietly. "Do you know where we are?"
He didn’t recognize the place, though he was dazzled by its towering heights. His eyes followed the marble pillars into the sky, a sky that he thought would never end, and he lost sight of the temple’s roof in a bright haze of blue and gold. It was only when he bumped into something large to his right that he was brought back to down to Earth. He touched the cold statue next to him and felt a spark of nostalgia. Was he born here? It felt like home. So it must have been home.
His hand left the statue. It was a terrible bull staring him down, and Sam stepped back to Mother Mariah’s side. He was slightly afraid.
Mother was waiting patiently. Stammering, he said, “I don’t know.”
Mariah sighed. "That's all right," she said. "This place has long been gone from your world. When I was a child, this was the most wondrous nation in the world. But the people here, they turned away from god. They did not believe. When he sent me, they scoffed. They refused to worship, to believe. They had no faith. When the time came for me to ascend, their doubts weakened me. I was lost because of a lack of faith."
Mariah's face was troubled, her eyes angry and her mouth twisted. She looked up at Sam, imploring him to be different, to be better.
“I would have made this heaven on earth, for all who believed," she said. "Now is the time when I can once again be born. I can make heaven for those who believe. No more pain, Sam. No more betrayal. That's why I need you. You have faith."
Sam did not like her expression. It bothered him, it sat in his chest and twisted, it... he didn’t know how to describe it. These people she spoke of, why would they reject a world without pain? Mother had handed it to them, and they cast it aside. Like Bunny did. Sam had given Bunny everything; his life, his faithfulness. She repaid him with treachery. Sam, too, had been betrayed.
The problem with this world was, perhaps, lack of faith. Sam could not allow himself to become that kind of person. His mother needed him. She needed him to be... the word “better” came to mind. It was time for him to grow up.
He knelt before her and humbly took her hand, raised it to the top of his head, and he bowed. “Then we’ll just have to make people believe again. Won’t we? Is that why you brought me here?”
Mariah smiled. "Yes, Sam, that is why," she said. "Rise, my Son. You will be my instrument. Come, I will teach you the songs, the magicks."
Mariah turned towards the temple and began to ascend the great stone steps.
Sam followed Mariah inside, and she led him to a small room. They sat together on the cool stone floor and Mariah began to teach him. Over the next few nights, she would instruct Sam in the ancient magics and rites of her homeland. When she finished, Sam would be a strong, capable priest, the perfect leader for the Crimson Brotherhood.
thanks to Sherlynn for reminding me what alliteration' meant
Thursday August 18, 2005. 11:43 PM.
A talent scout must redirect her attention from the masses if she’s serious about discovering an original thought. She first checks her neighborhood Denny’s, the late night shift between 11 pm, after the math students have gone to bed, and 2 am, before the drunks and parolees stumble in. It’s an ethereal period where she sits and reads under humming lights and faint Muzak. Muzak descends from the speakers, and she can’t deny that Green Day is among its repertoire. It’s a crime. It’s a crime. A talent scout must redirect her attention to the soft lead scribbles around a coffee coaster, the mandatory teaspoon slip off one’s nose, and your typical “pause-ahem-pause” over a long, languid game of chess.
A chair, a table in back, a cup of Denny’s sepia warming her fingerprints, Brinkley watched in dismay the rapid exchange between a long-necked man and a man with no neck.
White player’s Adam’s apple moved grossly up and down when he saw an opportunity to play his castle. Nodding, black player uncovered his mouth and said, "Good game.”
Unable to watch another crime against chess, Brinkley tapped her forehead on the rim of her coffee cup. Someone was going to accidentally checkmate any minute. They reminded her of a couple of dodo birds she once knew. Aptly named species, the dodo.
Maybe, instead, unwarranted talent hid in the collars of the working class.
A white mushroom hat bounced up and down along the surface of the pass-through window to the kitchen. The coarse sound of a grill being cleaned rebounded in the vents above. In the back, the dishwasher banged out the Get Smart theme on his pots, apparently unaware that the customers could hear him. Each waitress, manning her condiment station, married the 4x4 rows of ketchups, mustards, and A1’s down to rows of 3x3. The first of them to effectively pour one bottle of Tabasco into another was going to get her brain sucked. It’d be an honor. Brinkley would put up with the citris burn, because she couldn’t allow such talent to roam the free world. Those spouts were so damn small.
Then came the last straw of the evening. She tuned out the skater kids occupying the booth next to hers in order to better hear the truckers, the pontification, the idiocy, the alliteration:
“Shoot," Sal said, "the president knows that the people won’t stand for 'nother bombing during this fiscal fiasco. I’m telling you boys, this is why the taxes reflect an all-time pecuniary peculiarity. It’s a crazy country, Charlie, irregardless of what Heath says over there.”
Heath heard his name and said, "What?"
Three counter stools occupied by three pair of undersized Wranger jeans occupied by three wasted conceptions—Christ, three out of three coffee cups exhibited more ambition.
She was running out of viable ideas here. Time to pay up and return to that motel room charged to a Ms. Brinkley Davis. She’d never signed “Ms.” to a register before. It felt strange to leave out the “r,” the central “Ra” in her life.
Brinkley felt like a divorced bottle of Tobasco.
Across the dining room, alone at a seat by the window a dark-haired girl sobbed, her face buried and her arms, elbows out, flat on the table. A milkshake rose off her starboard side. The whipped cream had melted below the surface of chocolate, displacing gobs of brown that ran over the rim of the fountain glass and down to her pudgy fingers.
What luck! This girl was the Titanic. Regular people cried; only poets sobbed. Brinkley carried her coffee cup over and slid into the booth.
“Hey,” she said. “Hey. You okay?”
“Y-Y,” the girl said.
“Liar. What is it? Guy trouble?”
“N-N.”
“Then I bet it’s car trouble. No, let me guess. Work trouble.”
“Maybe. Sorta.”
“Maybe-sorta car trouble or maybe-sorta work trouble? Or is it maybe work trouble and sorta car trouble? Which always leads you back to guy trouble, don’t ask me why. But since you said you don’t have guy trouble, never mind. Maybe that’s your trouble right there. No guy to sorta get you into trouble.”
“For your information,” the girl said in a muffled voice, “I don’t own no car no more. Missed the payments. And I’ve got a man. And he’s trouble, yeah. But that’s not why.”
“Why then? Tell me, why the streaked makeup?”
She sobbed harder. Brinkley touched her shoulder without understanding why. Compassion maybe-sorta.
The girl raised her head, gasping, and she said, “My diploma is useless as this.” Tears splashed off her thorny fake lashes past oval eyes, and she stared into her napkin like a blind woman, shook it. “As this stupid napkin all covered in ugly, stupid, yuck-o chocolate.” She wailed into her stupid quilted napkin, smearing stupid brown ice cream everywhere but her stupid, glossy lips. Nice lips, by the way. A la mode, a la Angelina Jolie.
“You an exchange student?” Brinkley said.
“Got my diploma last year.”
“Where’d you graduate from?”
“I graduate...from Grants P-Pass...Community College...P-Police Acada-Academy.”
The girl related her story, and throughout the telling, Brinkley listened with nod-worthy interest. Imagine it. She’d met a foreigner, gagging on snot and tears and English as a second language, who still communicated more clearly than Ra in her native brogue. Ra’s British accent, on the other hand, was merely in vogue and in the way. Too bad he couldn’t be here to take notes.
Her story went something like this:
The previous summer, she moved to LA with her boyfriend. A few months back he succumbed to a bizarre ailment, couldn’t work, and lost his job, forcing her to adopt all the bills. She wanted a job with the LAPD, but so far could only land temporary positions as a security officer. But her boyfriend’s medical bills were piling up, and her savings were dwindling.
Brinkley pried open the girl’s steady grip and plopped the napkin in the milkshake. The fountain glass runneth over.
“Here’s an idea,” Brinkley said, pointing to a plastic sign taped to the inside of the window. Through the white backing, an image in orange and black showed through: “detnaW pleH.”
“I can’t.”
“Why not?” Brinkley said. “Too proud to wait tables?”
“I apply already, okay? Mr. Washington say I got no experience.”
“I see.”
“If you see, why’d you bring it up then?”
“It was just an idea.”
“It was stupid idea.”
“O-O-Okayyy,” Brinkley said. Maybe it wasn’t too late to hit up the skater kids for a cigarette. Renee, her waitress, had yet to clean her table in the back.
The waitress for this section, Sue, showed up with a pot of coffee and a glass of ice water. She set down a coaster, pulled out her ticket book, and said, “Planning on dining here, hon?”
“Maybe. Sorta," Brinkley said.
“Because you’re on Renee’s ticket.”
“That a big deal?”
“I’ll have to let her know you switched tables.”
“You can tell her I said thanks, and here’s a buck for her trouble.”
Taking the dollar bill, Sue caught Brinkley’s eye, and Brinkley Sue’s, and right off the bat she knew. Brinkley knew that Sue was a demon, a vengeance demon. And she knew that Sue knew that she was an angel. But did Sue know that she knew?
Sue winked. “So,” she said, “can I bring you a piece of angel food cake? Get it? Angel food cake?”
“I prefer devil’s food cake,” Brinkley said. “Or demon’s food. Actually, what I’m really in the mood for is that kind of cake—what do you call it?—the kind that rhymes with ‘enj-uns’?”
“You don’t want that kind.”
“Don’t I?”
“Pretty young thing like you. It’ll go straight to your thighs. Trust me, I know. It’ll make you feel weighted down to earth. Trapped, in fact.”
“I thought so,” Brinkley said. ”Sorry to hear it.”
“So am I.”
Brinkley jutted out her hand in firm acquaintanceship. But instead of a simple handshake, Sue rejoined with a squally palm-to-palm, slide-into-a-finger-cup, greasy pull ‘n’ snap; followed by a knuckle-slapping, sideways gimme-five; followed by a—stunned, Brinkley witnessed the maltreatment of her hand—twiddling, in-your-face Stooger; and concluded with an index finger, slap ‘n’ shoot, from-the-hip fakeout. The whole Jackie Chan blur of moves seemed to say “just kidding,” but it revealed a lot about this demon named Sue. It declared that she grooved with the campus vibe, talked the talk, knew the “in” shake, was hip.
So what, who cared? That was Ra’s domain; Brinkley could never keep up. About once a semester the handshake advanced to the next developmental milestone. A person had to live and breathe its subtle nuances in order to stay fluent. Moguls of this pathetic greeting, in another ten years, would revisit their youth to find that its evolution had gotten out of hand. Most would have no clue how to respond to a knuckle-rib, nose-pop, elbow-eye, beat it, you middle-aged mutha-pop, whatsamattaforyou? And that suited her fine.
Just the thought of it fetched Brinkley a guilty tickle, and she drew three fingertips to her bottom lip. There was just no stopping The Idea once it got going. Let the good times roll.
Before leaving, Sue had slipped Renee’s bill for one coffee under Brinkley’s water glass and wrote another ticket for the Asian girl’s milkshake. The girl, her head buried, had become very quiet, despite her spasmodic shoulder blades.
Okay, I’m going out on a limb here," Brinkley said. "I bet you’re a closet Hansons fan, aren’t you?”
“God no. You are a big freak, I swear. Leave me alone.”
“And that’s all folks,” Brinkley said, drumming her hands on the table’s edge. “Another bust for Brink Z. Davis, a.k.a. ‘talent scout loser.’ I am outta here, Ra can find his own ‘dead end rites.’”
She left a fiver on the table and took a last sip of coffee while standing. “Anyway, I got to be gone before the bar crowd shows up," she said, "I suggest you pull yourself together and get home to that boyfriend of yours. Drunks will suck the “o” out of your H2O, believe me. And a glass of H2 is just plain useless against cottonmouth."
Suddenly, Brinkley had to pee.
Sometimes “sigh” is the only word to describe the indescribable.
And so much for day one of their Platinum Gold regime. Ra, in a typical burst of self-proclaimed genius, had once stolen the name from a promotional poster at their unfriendly neighborhood Sam Goody. The idea was this, that he would manage any band top-heavy with The Idea. He’d study its members, track down any contacts who may have been infected then suck all brains involved, thereby snuffing the danger. Meanwhile...
Brinkley scouted out rising stars. If she found anyone inspired by the band in question, she lured them with the promise of a lucrative career in writing/singing/dancing/whatever to Ra so he could suck their brains also. Rarely did anyone die in a timely fashion, however. Ra collected them in a room like he was a James Bond villain, revealing his plot just prior to killing off the heroes. Guess that made Brinkley “Odd Job,” the grunt. She could always help with the brain-sucking, but then again, there was that whole grapefruit thing. She hated the taste. In 1892 she got her hands on the parietal lobe of a chimpanzee that tasted exactly like mackerel smells, a putrescence that brought her to her knees. This chimp was about to inadvertently discover time travel, for reals. Brinkley puked up everything she’d learned that day.
Sue stopped Brinkley on her way past the register, dropped her ten gallon tub of strawberry ice cream and slapped it, bouncing particles of ice three inches off the lid.
A frown tumbled into Brinkley’s face. She copped a smirk to hide it. “What’s up, B?” she said, bending to the right and shooting her index finger from the hip. But that quick, she stood up straight as a student about to be punished by the dean.
“Cute,” Sue said. “Listen, I know you’ve got your own little, you know, thing going. I can’t help but wonder what your intentions are for my girl at table five.”
“I wasn’t aware she was your girl.”
“Well she is.
“If you say so.” Brinkley eyed the bathroom, hoping to imply that she’d rather be there than here.
“So,” Sue peeped, “are you needing my Bunny for some sort of angel blessing, or can I assume you and I are going to avoid having ourselves a…." She wiggled her press-on nails in Brinkley’s face. “Spat.”
“She’s all yours. I already got the extreme opposite of what I came for.”
The Asian girl's sobs became louder, and she held her unpaid bill tight. She was a bleeding heart, but definitely not an artist. She had no idea how lucky she was to be so one-dimensional. She got to keep what little brains she had.
Sue paid the girl no mind. “I must insist that Bunny be untouched," she said. "It’s a long story. You’ve probably heard it a million times.”
"Bunny? I was expecting artistry from a girl named Bunny? Hey, nice talkin’ to ya, I should be going.”
“It’s a sad story, really, oh, oh, oh. You see, Bunny betrays her husband, and her husband follows her to California. Then one night I get this phone call, and guess who it is. It’s the husband wanting yours truly to shower vengeance upon her.”
“Fascinating, well, nice story. If you’ll excuse me.”
“Now’s when things get interesting. Part of the v-wish has caused Bunny’s boyfriend to become infested with a monster.”
“The bizarre ailment she told me about.”
“The guy is”—Sue made quotation marks in the air—”in trouble, if you know what I mean. I don’t mean to gossip, but you won't catch me around when that inhuman tot comes crawling out.”
“Where is it going to come out? That’s the question.”
“I shudder to guess,” Sue said. "But I can tell you one thing. It's going to have claws."
“Gross.”
“And on top of the pregnancy-baby thingie, Bunny’s husband wished for her to apologize to him for breaking his heart. Which brings us back to why I have to smash her spirits. She must be riddled with guilt before remorse can properly take place.”
“Good story.”
“Guess what happens next.”
“Uh, you weren’t paying attention and performed a Double-Demon Doo-Doo vengeance wish.”
“I wasn’t paying attention and—right, you know? Of course you know. So now I’m stuck here until all wishes have come to pass, as you know. Right, right, same old, same old. I’m boring you.”
“Yep.”
“Anyhoo, that’s why I was worried when you tried to help Bunny, because I’m this close to pulverizing her self-esteem. This close to going home.”
“As I implied, it won’t happen again. And as I stated, she’s all yours.”
“I hope so.”
“Don’t hope. Know.”
“What did you want with Bunny in the first place? If you don't mind my asking."
Brinkley shifted her weight to the other foot. “It’s very simple,” she said, “I happened to be occupying that back table when I happened to notice that your young chickie over there just happened to be crying. I thought she might be a poet or something, no big deal. I was wrong. I just wanted to hear poetry. So sue me--um, Sue.”
“So you don’t want her to get a job here? Not even deep down.”
“It was merely a passing thought.”
“Because I can’t allow that cheating ho to get back on her feet.”
“Like I said. Just an idea. A stupid idea. Now. If you’ll excuse me.”
“Anyone ever tell you you dress like Tank Girl?”
“O-O-Okayyy,” Brinkley said. “Right. I am so outta here.”
“Hold up. Let me give you my number. When this is all over and I’m freed of the mortal plane, we’ll hang out.”
“Gee, I don’t know, I think I’m pretty much booked up this century. Lots of heathens to hunt down. Lots of heathens. Lots. You know how it goes. You let one heathen go around talking guff about God, the next thing you know, they’re all doing it. It’s an ongoing chore. I don’t really know how I find the time.”
Sue handed over one of her business cards. “You angels are so funny," she said. "I can tell, Brinkley, you and I are simply going to be the closest of friends.”
“Yeah. That’ll happen,” Brinkley said. “Listen, Sue. This may seem...
“Stupid?”
“Right. So how do I put this delicately?”
“Open your mouth and say it."
"You’re not a Hansons fan are you?”
“I don’t think so. Unless that’s that show with the fat man who says ‘D’oh’ a lot.”
“Ri-i-ight.”
“Is it the show with the man who says ‘D’oh’ a lot?”
“Just asking. Sorry to bother you.”
Brinkley couldn’t shake the sudden craving. She wanted to suck every brain in the restaurant, starting with Sue’s. Must have been all this pregnancy talk. Mad cravings were normal, weren’t they, with pregnant talk? Weren’t they? Please, somebody, say they were.
Moonlight Seranade
******Thursday, August 18th 2005 – 1:15am******
After being dropped off at his apartment by Tash, Galen waited a full thirty minutes before leaving again. He had to be careful now, to make sure that he was not being observed if for no other reason than to protect Kate. By force of habit Galen collected his sidearm, car keys, the pack of Salem’s - he stopped to look at the pack of cigarettes.
For years, he had been a dutiful conspirator. There were times when he broke procedure, but his actions were usually seen as being for the best. During those same years, he had been slowly killing himself by smoking, even though by all rights he should have been dead long ago. They were as much a symbol of his loyalty to Majestic as anything else. It was at that moment he knew he would eventually have to make a choice between the organisation and Kate. Slowly, he crumpled the pack between his fingers before dropping it in the wastebasket.
Moments later, a lone black Ford was driving just above the speed limit. It would have gone faster if the driver thought that he could get away with it. He knew he would never sleep that night until he had seen Kate again. He was desperate to see her regardless of the late hour. He fully expected things to get worse back at command, especially with his suspension finally coming to an end on Sunday, and felt that he had to let Kate know how much she meant to him before that happened. When he got to her house he took the porch steps two at a time and rang the doorbell.
Kate rolled around in her bed; her eyelids fluttered open for a moment. She sat up slowly and looked around. She could have sworn she’d heard something, but as she sat in silence – waiting for the noise to sound again, she could hear nothing but the stale hush of the night. Sighing tiredly, Kate sank back down into the bed, pulled the sheets over her body and closed her eyes…
Waiting a few minutes and trying again, Galen was about to give up when he was struck with an idea. It would make him look like a fool, and if he was lucky the neighbours already thought he was crazy. Looking around carefully, he made his way to the back of the house and couldn’t resist laughing at himself. He could see the headline now: “FBI Assistant Director Arrested for Serenading” *To hell with what they think,* he thought as he walked around the garden to get a better view of Kate’s window.
He found a number of small rocks, pausing only a moment to wonder at the intelligence of using them before taking aim and letting loose with one. It bounced off the window without breaking it while making a nice amount of noise in the room. He continued this a few more times before he caught sight of a female form in the window, he took a deep breath and started singing:
"Fly me to the moon
And let me sing among the stars
Let me see what Spring is like
On Jupiter and Mars
In other words, hold my hand
In other words, darling kiss me..."
Kate had been startled awake by the sound of something ricocheting off her bedroom window. She climbed out of bed and pulled on her robe just as she caught the slightly off key strains of song coming from outside. Kate grinned to herself as she recognised the voice. She hurried to the window and pushed the sash high and leaned out. She laughed out loud seeing Galen standing far below her, still singing. He smiled upon seeing her and continued to sing despite Kate’s hysterical gestures for him to be quiet.
”…Fill my heart with song
Let me sing forever more
You are all I long for
All I worship and adore…”
Galen got another idea, crazier than the last. While he sang he noticed how the nearby trees grew close into the house and how one almost reached up to Kate’s window.
“Galen, you’re crazy!” Kate laughed as he continued singing while also struggling to climb up the tree. Kate watched with amusement as Galen hiked one foot up after the other, pulling himself though the branches. “Be careful!!” she called out as he momentarily lost his footing.
Galen clung to the branch and wrapped his arms and legs around it to steady himself. Kate heaved a sigh of relief then giggled slightly at his position. Galen grinned goofily as he carefully released his vice like grip on the branch and slowly scrambled back up to his feet. He climbed a little bit more while still singing until he reached the branch that stretched just below the window where Kate was waiting. It was amazing what a few days of abstinence in the Nevada desert could do to a man.
Kate giggled again as Galen scrambled towards the window. “Hi, Love,” he said trying to sound casual and more composed than he felt. “Thought I’d drop by, see… see how you are…” Galen tried desperately not to look down, then promptly did so. “Ahh! High up aren’t we? From the ground and all…” He almost lost his grip again, then clasped more tightly onto the branch.
Kate grabbed hold of Galen’s shirt as he wobbled on the branch again. She pulled him close against the window, holding on to him tightly. She smiled warmly and sang softly and quietly “In other words, please be true, In other words, I love you…”
Galen grinned slightly, holding onto the window frame. “You’re impressed right? This is pretty impressive.”
“It’s very impressive,” Kate said in mock seriousness. She leaned further out of the window and kissed him softly on the lips while struggling to maintain her own balance.
As Kate kissed him, Galen could feel all of the worries of the night go away. Unfortunately, that also included the problem of keeping his balance. Kate cried out, panicked as Galen lost his footing. He moaned as his body swung down and hit the side of the house.
“Er, um, little help here Honey!?” he yelped as his feet flailed wildly in the air. With Kate’s help, he managed to pull himself in through the window after several minutes. Both of them were breathing heavily when he landed on the floor of the bedroom.
“Couldn’t just use the front door like everyone else?” laughed Kate as she gained her breath back.
“I thought… it would be… romantic…” gasped Galen, still recovering from the shock of nearly plummeting to his death. “You know? Moonlight… music…”
“Oh, that’s what you call it, ‘music’…” laughed Kate playfully.
Galen kissed her quickly. “Well I love you too!” he said, feigning hurt. The both of them were motionless, still half knelt on the floor. “I really do,” said Galen seriously, unable to remove his gaze from Kate. She had that slightly sleepy look about her that he just adored. “I missed you so much,” he whispered, kissing her again.
He pulled away slightly for a moment before hastily drawing her back into his arms. Kate pressed her body against his as they kissed, frantically pulling away their clothes. “I missed you too…” she murmured between kisses, “especially your… tree to window service.”
“Just glad I didn’t have to see you next fall,” he murmured back to her, enjoying the feel of her body pressed against his. Kate laughed as he nibbled playfully at her ear before trailing kisses down her throat. Suddenly she felt a little uncomfortable for some reason, her breathing grew more rapid and drawn and she could hear the pounding of blood in her ears. As Galen moved lower kissing her shoulders and arms, Kate quickly relaxed as the pleasure of the moment overrode all her other emotions. Soon they moved to the bed, tired of the hard floor, the window forgotten as they made love with the cool summer breeze only adding to the excitement of the evening.
******
Galen slumped into the bed beside Kate completely exhausted. “That was some home coming,” he said with a slight grin while trying to catch his breath. He rolled over and held Kate tightly, kissing her with intense passion. As they parted Kate shivered slightly and remembering that the window was still open, went to close it.
Galen watched her move across the room, the pale moonlight caressing her bare skin. He felt a deep flush of warm satisfaction that this woman was his. “Kate, Honey, come back to bed…”
Kate smiled happily and crawled back under the thin sheets, Galen pulled her into his arms with a contended sigh.
“Just let me hold you for a while, okay?” he said quietly. “It’s been far too long.” Galen wrapped his arms around her, one hand gently brushed against her breast while the other stroked across her tight stomach. Their bodies moulded around each other in complete familiarity. Galen kissed the back of her shoulders softly, then laid his head against hers. Kate rolled back into his embrace comfortably. The soothing motion of his hands on her flesh and the warmth of his body combined with the after effects of their impassioned lovemaking had left her tired and she could feel herself slowly drifting to sleep as Galen gently nuzzled the crook of her neck.
As he continued to stroke Kate, Galen could feel himself beginning to fall asleep as well. There was just so much that he wanted to say to her and could not find words for, so he tried to make up for that in their embrace. “Thank you,” he said softly after a long while.
“What for?” Kate murmured tiredly, letting one of her hands move slowly down his back.
Finally, he found the right thing to say to her before imparting what was bound to be mixed news. “For giving me the strength to go on, despite the risk. They’re finally letting me back to work on Monday. I… I, don’t think I could go on without you. Thank you."
Kate frowned to herself, glad that Galen couldn’t see her expression. She had hoped that whatever had gone on during the days they had been parted that it might have helped Galen resolve whatever burden he was carrying. But his voice still sounded full of sadness and regret. She rolled over and laid on her stomach across Galen’s chest, he smiled at her and brushed her hair from her face.
“I might never have made it though the last six months if it wasn’t for you,” she intoned, gently stroking his bare chest. “I love you Galen Eldridge, and I will always be here for you, no matter what.”
Galen stared for a long moment into her insistent gaze before pulling her down into his arms as they kissed tenderly. They made love for a second time that night, this time their actions were slower and more controlled. The urgency they’d felt earlier had been replaced with the simple intimate desire to be as close to one another as they possibly could. They continued their gentle ministrations throughout the night, laboriously and painstakingly but without relenting until finally exhaustion claimed them both, and before the first rays of dawn had begun to break though the darkness they were both fast asleep.
Season Two: Aug 6 2005 - Jan 6 2006
******Thursday, August 18th 2005 – 9:45am******
The morning sunlight blazed into the bedroom, casting distorted patterns across the two sleeping forms. Kate stirred slightly, rubbing the sunlight from her eyes and yawned tiredly. Galen’s arms were still wrapped loosely around her body, holding her close against his own warm flesh. Kate hadn’t felt so comforted in a long time; she snuggled deeper into Galen’s embrace, enjoying the still silence of the morning.
Galen felt himself stir as Kate’s body shifted against his. He welcomed the feel of her closeness as the early morning breeze blew in through the still open window. There was a feeling of rightness about all of this, that he was finally home after a long time. Rubbing the sleep for the corners of his eyes, he gently stroked Kate’s shoulders. “Good morning, darling,” he said, stifling a yawn.
Kate rolled over to face Galen and smiled, kissing him lightly on the lips. “Good morning.”
Galen brushed her hair back from her face and slowly trailed his fingers against her cheek. She looked much better this morning he thought. She’d looked slightly worn last night, despite her effort to disguise it. He hoped she wasn’t having trouble sleeping again.
“I’m fine,” said Kate perceiving his worried thoughts. “Like I said before, there’s no need to worry.” Kate climbed out of bed and Galen watched as she pulled a satin camisole on over her head. She grinned as she noticed Galen watching her and she knelt on the bed besides him, the slip riding up her legs.
Galen gently brushed his hand up her thigh, sliding the silky material further up Kate’s legs. As Kate talked happily his mind couldn’t help but drift back to last night and how they’d made love, and how different it had been to anything he had ever felt before. Usually their lovemaking was so frantic and desperate, but something last night had changed things though he didn’t know what. Maybe it had been Kate’s solemn declaration of love or perhaps their being separated for those few days had brought it about. Either way something had changed, their actions last night had confirmed it, those long, slow, painstaking hours that they’d spent entangled in each other’s arms. It had been more than just sex, a brief flickering flash of desire; it had been so much more. An intensely intimate moment.
“Galen? Galen have you heard a word I just said?”
Galen shook his head clear of his thoughts, focusing on the sound of Kate’s voice as she hovered over him. “Sorry?”
Kate picked up a pillow and hit him with it in playful irritation. “By Hecate I don’t know where your mind was just then, you seemed to be a million miles away.”
Galen grabbed Kate around the waist and pulled her on top of him, “I was thinking about you actually,” he said with a slight grin.
“Smooth talker,” said Kate as she made herself comfortable straddling his body over the sheets, gently squeezing his torso between her knees. “I was trying to tell you about this invitation I got the other morning.” Kate leaned over to the side table and grabbed at a pile of letters and papers from there, causing Galen to groan slightly at her movement. “Here we are, Daye’s having a party at Bibliophile, this weekend. Sounds like fun huh?”
Galen playfully snatched at the envelope she held in her hand and looked it over, “It sounds like it has potential, and I finally get to meet all your friends.” *Though it might be a good idea to avoid another ‘run-in’ with Tash,* he thought. Suddenly Galen caught sight of something familiar in the pile of papers, a small white card.
He withdrew the card, turning it over in his hand. It was the security pass he’d used to access Tony’s office over at Constillias Publications. “Honey, where did you get this?” asked Galen, trying to keep his voice sounding calm.
“What? Oh it was in that pair of pants you left over here. I did your laundry the other day.” Kate was silent for a moment, “’Constillias’ - that sounds familiar… isn’t that the name of that occult publishing house? Prints those terrible ‘Ten-Ways-to-Ride-a-Silver-Broom-Stick-for-the-Solo-Practitioner’ type books. You know in the coven, Sula, she used to write the theoretical aspects of Wicca for publication. She used to spend most of her time correcting the sensationalist nonsense that Constillias used to print. I mean anyone would think that they didn’t want the public to know the truth!”
Galen was finding it difficult to keep the alarm from creeping into his expression. He nervously flicked the card back and forth between his thumb and forefinger, making an irritating ‘clacking’ noise.
“Galen?” asked Kate, placing her hand over his, silencing his actions. “Is something wrong? Just what do you have that card for anyway?”
Galen gently pushed Kate back off of him as he climbed out of the bed. “Just leave it okay?” he said as he fumbled around the room looking for his clothes. He pulled on a sweater and his boxers, looking around for his pants.
Kate frowned, feeling like she’d said something wrong but not quite sure what. Sometimes she really hated having such high morals when it came to telepathy. “…Okay,” she assented warily, “so… how was your trip?”
Galen picked up a pair of jeans from the back of a chair, pulling his leg through the hole he noticed how the fabric had been practically ripped apart at the seams. “What the..?” Galen took off the pants and looked at them. “What on Earth happened to my lucky pants?”
Kate grimaced and bit her lip, “er, I had a mishap?”
“A mishap?” echoed Galen.
“Well, more of a slight miscalculation on my part. It’s a long story. Let’s just say a few things happened while you were away. I mean, nothing life threatening…” *Not to me anyway,* she thought as she remembered the reason why Victor had wanted a glamour in the first place… demon hunters. “Your pants were a casualty of your girlfriend trying to help her friends…”
Galen looked for a beat at Kate and his expression softened slightly, she just looked so sweet and innocent sitting there on the ruffled sheets, her hair spilling over her shoulders and… he looked away. He couldn’t bear to look at her.
“I’ll tell you all about it later,” said Kate taking the jeans from him. Galen rooted out another pair of pants and continued to get dressed while Kate watched him. “So, how was your trip?” she asked again.
“For God’s sake Kate!” cried Galen, “I didn’t come back from one interrogation to get another from you okay?”
Kate looked stunned; Galen could almost see her recoil as though someone had just slapped her unexpectedly. He looked away. He hadn’t meant to be so harsh only… he was tired, tired of always having to lie to her. He almost hated seeing the way that she believed his lies more than the look of hurt that she held now. He forced himself to face her; he took her hands in his and caressed her cheek softly.
“Kate, I-I, I don’t know how to explain this… I, I have to tel-“ The words stuck in his throat, so long he had kept them silent, secret, he didn’t know how to say… He hung his head dejectedly.
Kate frowned, unable to understand why Galen was so distraught. “I’m sorry,” she said finally.
Galen looked up, Kate’s eyes – so honest, so understanding… Kate’s eyes, Kate’s lips, Kate’s hair, Kate’s arms, her hands which he held on to so tightly. “I, I should go,” he sighed, dropping her hands and heading towards the door.
“No, wait.” Kate caught up with Galen, and wrapped her arms around him. “Please…” she kissed the back of his neck softly, teasingly, a slight smile curling her lips. “Forgive me?”
Galen’s body tensed slightly then relaxed under Kate’s touch. She seemed to have this power over him, she could make him forget all his worries with a single caress. "Kate, I'm the one who should apologizing. I shouldn't have snapped at you like that, I'm sorry."
Kate smiled and leaned in closer. “How about we go out tonight… and then we can go back to your place, if you remember where that is…”
Galen couldn’t help but laugh, breaking the spell “I remember.”
Season Two: Aug 6 2005 - Jan 6 2006
Place: Unknown
Date: 865AD
Night was about to fall. The sky showed a slight line of red spreading across and growing.
He looked up and observed this. *It is time,* he thought. Looking around he saw that everyone was here. He had made sure of it. He could feel the excitement of all the people in the air. They were excited because they wanted to be free.
*Freedom. Freedom they want and freedom they shall get.* He had coaxed them into taking part into the ceremony. He had told them that they would never be free until they were separated. It had taken a few years of preaching to open the eyes of the people and finally they understood him.
*And in perfect timing too!* What better time for the ceremony of Separation than when the third moon of Jupiter was aligned with the moon of the Earth, which happened not that often. For some this time wouldn’t be much to talk about, but those who knew how to use it could achieve miracles.
He was ready. Many of them had asked him the reason why he had come to them and tried to show them the right way. He had merely replied that he felt that he should help the helpless. *Well, what they don’t know won’t hurt them!*
He had the Codex with him. It was powerless but after the separation the Codex would possess nothing but. Looking around he saw that all of the Kumacs had lined up just the way he had showed them the previous day. *So they are ready too, let's get started.*
He moved to the middle of the altar he was standing upon and faced his audience. “People!” he yelled out to them. “You hath come here because you no longer wish to be imprisoned any more! I promised thee that I shall show you the way. Well the moment hath come for you to witness a new era for your kind.”
He paused to look up at the sky. It was now entirely red, and the sun was on its way now. “It looks like the time has come. Giveth me your silence and your concentration and the ceremony shall begin!”
He looked over to see all the Kumacs holding hands and closing their eyes, concentrating. He took the Codex out and held it up. What was about to be done would take the deepest and darkest black magic that he possessed. He had worked on it for ages and he knew he could do it.
He also closed his eyes and started chanting. First softly so no one but he could hear. Then louder and louder until there was no one who couldn’t hear.
“God Seth, I call upon thee, grant us separation which we earn. Ocean to ocean, land to land. Water to water, sand to sand. Separation we seek, separation we earn. Grant us separation” He repeated, but even louder “Separation, grant us separation! SEPARATION!”
With him all the Kumacs also shouted out, “SEPARATION THAT WE EARN!”
He called after them, “SEPARATION!”
They repeated, “SEPARATION THAT WE EARN!”
He continued, “SEPARATION. SETH, MAY YOU GRANT US SEPARATION!!!!”
Then there was silence. There was no sound. No one breathed and no one moved. They all just waited.
Suddenly the sound of thunder was heard and a lightning came down and hit the Codex he was still holding in his hand. By some miracle, he didn’t budge but stood his ground.
“Seth, have mercy on us, and giveth us what we ask for. Grant us separation. SEPARATION!” he cried out. The Kumacs opened their eyes to look at him, astonished. There they saw a man being hit by lightning but hardly feeling any pain.
“SEPARATION!” he called again, the lightning still connected with the Codex he was holding up. And then as suddenly as the lightning had fallen, a bright light was released by the Codex. The light engulfed all the Kumacs one by one. It was so bright that no one could see anything around him.
The light then started contracting again and vanished into the Codex just as it had begun.
He opened his eyes and looked around. *Yes! It has worked.*
The number of people around him had doubled. Everyone looked around, dazed at first and then started cheering.
***
In the morning he had gone just as instantly as he had come. No one clearly even knew who he was. Just that he had come for them, talked to them, performed the ritual and disappeared. They never saw him again…
Season Two: Aug 6 2005 - Jan 6 2006
Thursday Night
Victor looked up and down the street. He wasn't particularly certain he would be followed, but it never hurt to be sure. He walked briskly down the road. He had been a lot of places that day and that increased the chances that he had been spotted.
The neat rows of apartment buildings all looked the same. *It's a lot like the barracks on G'rnatha. Have not thought about that for ages.* Victor looked at the winding paths between the monolithic three-story buildings. *There is the one. You know I bet there are lots of people here who would never be missed.*
Victor growled deep in his throat. *Don't you EVER shut up?*
He rang the buzzer next to the building door.
Drew and Daye were cuddling on the sofa, a big bowl of popcorn balanced on their knees. Daye had her face buried in Drew's chest as a rather nasty monster tore a teenager apart on her television screen. Drew held her close, chuckling. "How can you be scared?" he asked, stroking Daye's hair. "You have personally fought worse than this, I'll bet."
Daye nodded her head, glancing back up at the screen as the ominous music built. "That's different," she began, but was cut off when the door buzzer sounded. Daye squealed and nearly leapt off the couch. Drew laughed in earnest, and Daye swung at him with a pillow before heading towards the door. Drew paused the movie and followed her.
"Hello," Daye spoke into the intercom box. "Who is it?"
Victor hated these things. He never knew how to pitch his voice. He always felt like he had to holler like he did at the drive thru. "It's Victor, I wanted to stop in for a bit." *Too loud. Now you tell me.*
Daye rolled her eyes at the too loud tone of Victor's voice. Trust a demon to have no clue about electronic devices. "Sure, come on up," Daye replied, pressing the button to open the door. She turned to Drew, who was watching with a questioning look on his face.
"Victor?" Drew asked. "Friend of yours?"
Daye shook her head at the possessive tone in Drew's voice. She stuck out her tongue at him. "Yes, he's my friend. Victor and his girlfriend Tash are both my friends. I haven't seen them since before we left for Ireland. I hope there isn't anything wrong."
Victor walked up the stairs. His senses gave him feedback on Daye's neighbors and invaded their privacy. *Overcooked the salmon. Hm, watching porn. Pew, empty the litterbox. Oh, domestic quibble. This is the one. Can we go back one?*
Victor knocked once on the plain door.
Daye swung open the door, prepared to greet Victor warmly, but stopped abruptly and stared at the man on the other side in shock. This was not Victor, no matter what he had sounded like. Perhaps this man had done something to Victor. Daye assumed a defensive stance, pushing Drew behind her. She cursed the fact that her staff and component pouch were both in her bedroom, too far away to be of any use. "Ok, who the hell are you?" she asked the stranger coldly. "What have you done to Victor?"
"Whoa! It's me. I keep forgetting to warn people I know. I had to change my face. It's a lot different, I know, I didn't want to startle you!" Victor took a step back because Daye was looking skeptical.
"Okay," he said calmly, "Tash is my girlfriend and she was kidnapped in March by voodoo priestesses. You were there as was Galen. In the grove where we rescued Kate in February."
Victor waited for her to relax.
Daye slowly backed up. It was unlikely that he would know that if he wasn't Victor, but not impossible. She had an idea about what to ask him, though. "Okay, assuming you are Victor, and you do sound like him, then I want you to answer one question for me."
*One question? Oh, hell with it, just eat her. But then the party will be off.* "Anything. I'll answer."
"A few days ago, you and Tash had a... falling out," Daye began. "She was afraid you had left her for good until she found the letter you left for her. Where did you leave the letter?"
Victor smiled, "I stuck it to the Stone of Ghortab which I left by her front door. But how did you know about that?"
Daye smirked, pulling Victor down into a quick hug. "'Cause I tripped over that damn stone and almost broke my toe," she whispered, laughter in her voice. Daye stepped back and gestured for Victor to enter the apartment. "Come in," she said. "Come in and tell me what's been going on."
Victor entered the apartment and stopped inside the door, "I'm sorry. I didn't know you had company."
He turned to her and mouthed silently, "Is he okay?"
Daye laughed out loud, closing the door and leading Victor and Drew back into the living room. "Victor," she smiled and took Drew's hand, "this is Andrew Langley, my boyfriend. Drew, this is Victor."
Daye waited a moment and then added, "Victor's a 2000 year old G'Rnathan Battle Fiend."
Victor give her a sidelong glance, "You are trying to shock the boy aren't you?"
He held out his hand to Drew, "I've heard your name, good to finally meet you."
Drew took the hand with some skepticism. It was soft and warm like any other human hand. He looked at Daye for confirmation. She nodded with mischief in her eyes. "Yes, she's right. That's what I am. But please, keep it under you hat, okay?" added Victor.
Drew smiled sardonically. "This is gonna take some getting used to," he said to Daye. "And I won't be relating this tale to any of my friends, Victor. They think I'm crazy enough with what I do. They don't need to hear that my witch girlfriend hangs around with 'battle fiends' and gets visits from dead, demon ex-lovers. Don't worry about me. It's nice to meet you too, by the way."
Victor sat down next to Drew; he filed the little tidbit about Ryan into his memory for later. He didn't feel this was a good place to start that discussion, especially the way that Drew's pupils dilated at the mention of him. He had issues there. Better to discuss them in private. "I just stopped by to let you know that Tash and I were going to be at the party. We haven't had time to call... things have been complicated."
Daye nodded. "Yeah, I kind of knew that," she said. "I'm glad you can make it, though. It wouldn't be the same without you. I'm going to use this as a chance for all my friends to meet and greet. And to hopefully shamelessly promote the shop and my fabulous new cook."
Daye settled herself in the armchair. "So," she leaned forward, focusing intensely on Victor, "tell me how Tash is doing. I've been worried about her."
Victor shook his head. "Better, but still not well. She is deep in a fight with herself. And I am worried about her too. Unfortunately I am more of a distraction from her problems than a help. That's why I am giving her some room."
Victor shuffled in the seat uncomfortably. "I love her, Daye, I just don't know how to help her."
Daye nodded, chewing her lip as she thought. "I saw her, Victor," she said, "and I talked to her. I think you're making the right decision. She isn't going to let anyone else help her. I'm not sure there's anything we could do even if she wanted us to. This is something within Tash that she must come to terms with herself."
Daye paused, looking almost as if she were thinking of something else for a moment. "It's a trying time for her," she continued, her voice far off. "She needs understanding and patience."
Victor rose from the sofa, "Listen, I can't stay. I still have a hunter after me. So I really do need to run. As long as I am moving I am a harder target to hit. And I have one more errand to run before I can finish that task."
*The ring. The ring. Bah!*
Victor shook Drew's hand again, "I'll see you Friday night. I understand you are a scholar. I may need your help soon."
He hugged Daye and kissed her on the cheek. Daye accepted Victor's hug and kiss, rising to walk with him towards the door. When they got there, she laid a hand on Victor's arm to gain his attention. "Victor, I don't know if Tash told you how bad her injuries were the other night when I stumbled upon her, but I think you should keep an eye on her," Daye's voice was full of concern. "Chances are that we're not always going to be lucky enough to have a witch just walking by when Tash needs help. And if you need any help with this glory hound on your tale, or anything else for that matter," Daye added, "don't hesitate to call me. Okay?"
Victor kept his voice low. Daye might trust Drew, but Victor would reserve his trust a while longer. "She got more healing from Kate. It was really bad. She could hardly stand. But I am going to be keeping an eye on her as much as I can. I had no idea she would go out in that emotional state."
*Like you did any better Mr. Shotgun Roadkill. Shot..er. shut up.*
Victor shook his head slightly to clear the laughter of Vrithetek who was replaying the embarrasing events in his head. "Listen, this guy is fallable, and I have some reliable information on him. Thanks, I might take you up on that if I get in over my head."
Daye smiled fondly. "Okay, good," she said. "It was good to see you, especially as there were no mad voodoo queens or evil stones about."
Daye opened the door to let Victor out. "And I like the new look, by the way," she said. "You look very... kind."
Season Two: Aug 6 2005 - Jan 6 2006
Friday Morning- The Bultmann Towers: 9am
Victor spun on his heel and headed up to the apartment. The poor security guard was sweating and hyperventilating at the browbeating that Victor had given him. *I hated to do that. No I didn't. Yes I did. Don't you two ever quit?*
Victor was tempted to ram his head into the sides of the elevator but he didn't think it would silence the voices and it would very likely damage the elevator. The doors slid open smoothly at the penthouse level and Victor crouched down and smelled the carpet in the hallway.
It had been two days but the scents were still there. Three... no, four different tracks. The door of the apartment did not have any signs of forced entry. *That weasel guard!* Victor unlocked the door but didn't open it right away. He crouched down along the wall, and gently pushed the door to see if would swing freely open. It did and Victor stopped holding his breath.
He peered around the corner of the door. *No one home. Good.*
There was a scent... spicy. Barbeque? Victor could smell it but could not place it. He stepped into the apartment. There was a flash and the conjuring circle blew powder into the air. A choking cloud settled on Victor, the hallway and all of the furniture. *Shit. Dumbass. Trouble.*
The cloud settled and Victor could not feel any damage. There were no burns. His glamour was intact. He wasn't on fire. *What the hell was that?*
Just to be safe he cautiously walked around looking for more surprises. Nothing. He could find evidence that some heavy things had been moved in and then out of the spacious rooms. The powder worried him, though. He stripped off his clothes and tossed them in the washer. He walked naked back to the bathroom and took a thorough shower.
While he waited for his clothes to dry he carefully cataloged the scents of the four men. Xavier he remembered. The others were a mystery for now.
Friday Morning in the back nook of Denny's.
"Bingo!" howled Mick.
Xavier swallowed the pancakes he had just stuffed into his mouth. "Show me!"
Mick pulled out a map and spread salt over the surface of it. The little crystalline cubes crawled across the surface like ants and formed a circle around the Bultmann Towers. One of the grains of salt wandered around in the circle lazily.
The four men around the table watched as if something exciting was going to happen. Xavier looked up at Mick, "That it?"
Mick looked offended. Frank slapped him on the back, "Don't sweat it Mick. It's good. Does it have to be salt?"
Mick, pleased that someone took an interest in his craft, was quick to explain, "Nah, any powder will do, but salt shows up pretty good."
Xavier had not taken his eyes off the moving grain of salt. He watched it move out of the building and down the street. It was followed by a parade of little grains of salt. It stayed for a moment then zipped across the map.
'He's in a car. Lets go!" Xavier tossed a $50 at the waitress as he ran past. "Keep it!" he shouted over his shoulder.
Season Two: Aug 6 2005 - Jan 6 2006
***Thursday 18th August, 2005…11:45am***
Tash had left Sam the keys to the penthouse. She probably expected he'd have moved the furniture after training. But something drew him home last night. Coated with dry perspiration, he crawled onto the couch next to Reah and hugged her, relieved by the coolness in her forehead. Mariah came to mind, as if the act of lying down triggered them. But of Mariah he did not dream.
He’d woken up feeling empty.
Sam and Reah entered the unlocked penthouse, crossed the glossy floor to one of the bedrooms and lugged the mattress out. They dragged it to the stairs, much like their couch the previous Monday. No more of that nasty motel life for Reah, and Sam was glad.
"I can’t wait for you to meet Mr. Tek," Sam said, grunting with the mattress and thinking of the boss’s new face. "He’s a black man. You don’t mind, do you?"
Reah snickered at his concern and shook her head. He was so sweet! "Why should I mind? As far as I’m concerned the blacker the better!" she smirked.
Sam struggled to keep the mattress from slipping. "Why?" he said. He dismissed the thought of black, sweaty flesh grinding against her skin, but he could not extract the lemon from his demeanor.
Reah recoiled at his unexpected question, her face heated slightly, "Ahh… no reason! I just hear they have big… feet."
*Man! Is it humanly possible for me to be sweating this much? Still? I would have sworn I had nothing left after those damn heat fazes in my dreams!* She struggled with the mattress, not so much for its weight, but more or less trying to fight it as it continued to struggle to flop against the wall while she tried to find her footing on each step.
"Thanks for the Sprite, Sam. I hope I wasn’t too much of a hassle, but thanks for looking after me." She had still felt slightly dizzy and wool headed when she got up in the morning, and she hadn’t meant to kick Sam in her sleep waking him up. But walking around… and a couple of Panadol, had eased her head to barely a whirr. She gave him a smile she hoped was warm and friendly. It was supposed to be, but the mattress wasn’t making anything easy…*Damn! A corner!*
"You’re…" they struggled past the corner, "welcome. I paid twenty bucks for that Sprite, so I hope you liked it."
Reah nearly tripped, "TWENTY BUCKS!" She artfully saved herself from a fall by deftly jumping that extra step and slamming her left shoulder into the wall. She breathed for a moment, wincing at the sharp pain from the shot wound… then waited… *Hm, didn’t dislocate!* She thought casually of her shoulder, then hoped she hadn’t thrown Sam too out of whack by her move.
"Um yeah!" she continued, straightening the mattress. "Best damn Sprite I ever had! I’d say it was worth forty for its quality and thirst quenching factor!" She didn’t have the heart to tell him it tasted like rust.
"But seriously," she continued, "I wasn’t that bad was I? I’ve heard I can be a bit… undesirable and… well, ‘heinous bitch’ I believe is the term most often used. Unfortunately for me I can never remember much, its all usually so very blurred. Something like - blur… wall… blur… shiny white bowl… blur… what the hell is that?… blur… floor!"
Sam lifted the mattress off his foot and placed it on the steps. "Heinous bitch?" Sam said. "But Reah. You're the coolest friend I've ever had."
Reah paused for a moment in re-gripping the mattress as what Sam had said reached her. She smiled, ducking her head momentarily before looking back to him, "Likewise."
They made it to apartment 211.
"Okay," Sam said. "Only one mattress and two frames and two headboards to go. Isn’t Mr. Tek cool? This is all free. Until we have the money to pay him." That reminded Sam. "How’s life at The Armoury, lately?"
Reah sniffed. "More like un-life," she muttered to herself before turning to answer Sam’s question with a Sam answer.
"Greeeaaaaaat!" she said sarcastically with the fakest grin she’d ever summoned to her face. Sam picked up on it… not that she didn’t expect him too. It was quite over the top. She rested her hand on her left sleeve fingering the bandage beneath it. "I haven’t actually been there since Saturday night, you should know that. And I think I told you the place got a little roughed up…" She watched for his reaction, "I don’t know what Joe’s been doing about it… but I know what I mean to do."
That was weird. "What is it you ‘mean to do’?" he said. For that matter, "And what do you mean by ‘un-life’?" Speaking it out loud gave Sam the willies.
"I didn't say unlife!" Reah snapped in quickly.
"You did. You did say ‘unlife.’ I heard you."
Just last night he discovered Tash was a psychic. Just the night before he'd learned that Mr. Tek got himself a new face. Maybe he could go out on a limb here. "What do you mean by that, Reah?" he said. "Because it’s not like I know what you mean, but what if I did? Wouldn’t it be cool to get if off your chest?" She couldn’t possibly know about monsters. But maybe she should.
"You wouldn’t want to know Sam!" she protested. *Shit! Just make it harder for me, Reah! Your brain! I ask you. No, no! I beg you.*
"Uh, what I mean is…. Maybe I did, and maybe I didn’t… but I did!" *Bravo clap… clap… clap.* Reah sighed, exasperated, "I mean… I meant, work was boring… aside from the roughing up part… always boring! I was trying to save you form hearing about my boring ‘unlife-like’ days of work!" She tried to put on her most convincing face. She must have overdone it considering Sam was not looking convinced.
That reminded her, she hadn’t hunted in over five days now! Panicked she blurted, "By the way, I’m planning on going for a walk tonight… late… so I may not be home when you get back." She froze at the end of her sentence, *Must you always open your mouth before consulting me?* "I need some fresh air… I find… I need some fresh air."
Reah was a mouthful. A beautiful mouthful. "Can we get the rest of the furniture now?" he said.
A few minutes later, with the headboard halfway between the third and second floors, Sam considered what she had said. "What do you mean you’re going for a walk? You need to rest. You’ve been sick."
He couldn’t quite place it, but something weird was going on with her.
Reah shot Sam a doubtful look, "I’ve been asleep for virtually the whole of the past two days! I think I’m rested." She could tell Sam was a little off about something. "I think I’m more in need of fresh air than more confinement resting in a bed. I need the activity." She wanted to give him a hug, he looked so uncertain. Unfortunately there was a headboard between them. "I’ll be fine, Sam." She stared into his eyes levelly, trying to convince him. "I can handle myself."
"When are you going walking?" Sam said. "Now? I’ll go with you?"
"Ah… no, not now. Too humid today. But tonight should be good. It reminds me of home. Only when I was at home I had the beach I usually walked along at night. But things change." They turned through the doorway of the apartment. "Plus I think I will rest for a little while after moving all this load." She chuckled lightly as bead of sweat ran off her forehead. "Ieeya… um… think I’ll be right on my own tonight though. You’ll need to sleep after work and whatever else it is you do after that anyway." She frowned. "Sam what do you do after work?"
"I get off at nine and — what am I going to be doing? - I’m going to be walking with you. It’s dangerous out there in LA. Trust me."
Reah inhaled and held her breathe, "Sam, I’ve been living in LA now for five months! I’ve gone from living in a abandoned building with a giant rat as a room mate, to living in a sleazy motel on the real shit side of town, to living here! I’d say this is the safest place I’ve been living in in my entire time here in LA. And this is the only place where I haven’t been for a walk, yet I went every night when I lived at those other places."
She looked at Sam, pleading him to stay. The night was no place for him, but she loved him for trying to be a gentleman by accompanying her and protecting her. "Don’t get me wrong Sam, I know you mean well and I love you for it! But truth is I think if something unfortunate did happen..." *Which if all goes to plan it will, but not for me, hehe!* "...I’d be able to handle myself better on my own than having to worry about you as well! And I’m not saying you can’t defend yourself or protect me…" *Although I do doubt you’d be able to survive against the bastards of the night* "…I’m just saying I’d probably defend myself better."
"Excuse me," Sam said, somewhat snooty. He’d been training with the boss’s wife for three days and knew what was up. He found his duffle bag under the couch and unzipped it. Thumper’s silver glinted as he held waved it across the light. "I think you better take me along," he said.
Reah stared at the stake in his hand, stunned. "Whe… wha… huh… how?" She recognised the silvery lines that spread out along the stake like tree branches forming symbols, "Zhì-mìng-de Shù," she muttered to herself.
Her eyes shot up to Sam, "Where did you get that?" she questioned heatedly.
Sam stepped back, proud of his stake, but held it close to his heart, sad, ashamed, nervous, protective. "I got it from our boss," he said. "It was a gift. A gift from Hesch. You remember Hesch."
Reah’s eyes narrowed, "Oh yes, I remember Hesch," she hissed.
Softening her gaze she turned back to Sam, "How long have you had this Sam? Couldn’t you just go a regular stake? You don’t even know how to use it!" *Let alone what it’s for!*
Sam stuck up his nose and looked down upon his friend. "Don’t I?"
He threw it at her!
Reah shifted to the left, the stake flew past her into the kitchen. It hit the wall, impaling an innocent fly, and dropped on the counter, clanking up a storm.
Sam smiled, his arms folded. Then he bent down, uncurled his right hand over the floor as if he expected a wee mousy to get onboard. The stake rolled quite naturally down the incline, through Reah’s legs, spinning as it caught the heel of her boot. It reached Sam’s fingers, Sam’s palm. He stood stoically and showed Reah his weapon, and to her he announced its true name. "Thumper," he said. He found he liked saying its name. "Thumper."
Reah could only stare at him. *Well! That answered my third question. He’s definitely named it.* Anger built up inside her at both Hesch and Joe… worry about Sam. There was just something about inanimate objects attaching themselves to people that always seemed to make her uncomfortable. They always seemed to end ‘not good’ from her experiences! *At least he’ll always have something in his grip if he gets in trouble!* she tried consoling herself.
"Maybe you can use it, but that doesn’t mean you have to get yourself in danger because I managed too! There’s no need for both of us to get killed should an unfortunate incident arise."
Sam couldn’t deny a sense of superiority. Tash had trained him too well in too short a time for him to display a lick of fear. "Trust me," he said. "I totally know what I’m doing."
*What the…?* Reah quirked her head to the side, studying Sam, *Is he for real?* "Where’s this attitude all come from? You–killed–a–fly–on–the–wall! Do you think that’s all it takes to kill what I think you might know I’m talking about? What have you been doing after work Sam, because this new found sense of confidence is really… not you!"
Sam’s neck sunk. "I… uh, sorry. I just thought… never mind. Didn’t you think it was cool how I got that fly?"
Reah reeled with guilt. He needed confidence, she wanted him to be confident, but she couldn’t let him get over confident. She couldn't! It just pained her; shooting him down like that was not something she’d enjoyed. She smiled tenderly, "I’m sorry Sam. I just don’t want to drag you into a life that’s not for you." His face was still hidden away.
She sighed and gave him a tight hug, "It was very cool Sam." She smiled. "And I appreciate you wanting to protect me. So much that I feel really bad now for shooting you down like that!"
"It’s okay," Sam said. "I just didn’t expect you to yell at me like that. I don’t like it when you yell at me."
He glanced at Thumper for support. Maybe it was time. She was a strong girl. And if Tash knew everything Sam knew, shouldn’t Reah, too, his best friend? After slipping his stake in the waist of his pants like one might conceal a gun, Sam took her hand. "Reah, before we finish moving, I’ve got something to tell you. It’s pretty heavy stuff, so you might want to be sitting."
Reah let Sam lead her over to the couch where she gratefully sat down. Her legs were murdered from walking up and down those stairs lugging mattresses and bed heads. She looked at Sam worriedly, "What is it?" It couldn’t be any worse though than anything she’s been through. But then again Sam wasn’t her, he couldn’t know what she’s been through. Anything that seemed minor to her could be really major for him.
She waited patiently, for once, waiting for Sam to find his words.
Sam let go her hand began pacing in front of the couch where she sat, much like his father used to pace before handing out a severe punishment. And that’s what this was, right? A punishment. LA punishing humans with horrible reality. How could he put this? "Uh, did you ever watch, say, The Wolfman when you were little? Or Dracula?"
Reah watched Sam as he paced back and forth, sympathy for him showing on her face, *He has discovered the real world. Poor Sam, he shouldn’t have to live through a world like this.* Sighing, she nodded.
"Okay, so like, if anyone ever told you wolfmen and vampires were real, you’d probably laugh, right? Because that’d be just crazy. Are you with me so far?"
Reah’s face stayed unaltered by emotion, probably what Sam wasn’t expecting. Possibly a look of confusion, maybe. "I’m with you Sam. And believe me when I say I wouldn’t laugh."
Sam paused, rationalizing what she said. He continued. "Of course you wouldn’t laugh. Because that would be really horrible. Monsters are — er — would be horrible. Gosh, I don’t know how to say this.
"It’s like this. You know that movie you showed me, Reservoir Dogs? How everything was all confusing, and people who you thought were one thing turned out to be something different, and everyone died at the end. Well, that’s LA. LA is nobody’s friend. Are you still following me? Because what I have to say now is going to knock your socks off."
The corner of Reah’s mouth quirked in a smile that didn’t reach her eyes. She was about to be lectured on the creatures of her main livelihood by Sam.
She let him continue anyway.
"Okay." Sam wiped his face. His heart beat in his throat; excitement, dread, Christmas morning, a pageant recital. "Here it comes. Are you really sure you’re ready? Really, really prepared to hear something shocking?"
Reah's eyes darted impatiently to the side and back to Sam as her head nodded with great intensity, "I'm ready Sam. What ever you have to say to me, I'm here for you! I always will be."
"Monsters exist!" Sam said.
He fell back a step, braced for her shock-face. But she didn’t seem shocked at all, so he leaned in. "Did you hear me, Reah? Monsters are real. There is SO such a thing as vampires. And wolfmen… well me and Thumper killed a few of them last week." Sam began studying her face, looking cheek to cheek, brow to chin, for any sign of fear, and if she decided to faint, he would catch her. He held out his hands.
Reah stayed seated for a while watching Sam before slowly pulling herself up off the couch and stepping forward to give him a hug. Obviously not the reaction he was expecting by the set of his arms, "I know Sam. I have for a long time. I’m so sorry you had to find out about them the way you have." *He had to kill werewolves?* She squeezed him tighter. She wouldn’t let anything ever harm him again.
For long moments, his arms out, Sam treated her like she were covered in mud. But slowly he accepted the hug, tightened his strong arms around her, and felt better. He said, "You know? You know about vampires and demons and werewolves and… and… stuff?" How could she know unless she’d been attacked like he’d been? "You haven’t been hurt, have you?" If she had, Thumper’s handle was jutting out of his pants, and he wouldn’t hesitate using it. Tash had taught him enough to get started, and the best teacher is practice.
Reah sighed and tensed, "Not by demons no. If anything, I’m the one who gives out the hurting more than the receiving of it." She looked up to Sam; she could guess what he was thinking. "There’s no need to go reaching for the stick in your pants. Like I said, I can handle myself better than you realise."
Sam pulled away from her. "I had no idea. You’ll have to excuse me. This is just so weird. You knowing about monsters… and fighting them. I guess you must think I’m pretty dumb, trying to protect you, and all."
Reah sniffed and smiled up at Sam, "Don’t be stupid, Sam! You’re not stupid…" She paused momentarily, and shook her head at what she'd just said, then continued, keeping a steady gaze all the while. "I don’t think you’re stupid for trying to protect me Sam, I think you’re my best friend!" She paused again to let it sink in. "If you didn’t want to protect me… I... well, I probably wouldn’t blame you for it, that’s if it even occurred to me that you didn’t. I’ve been on my own for a while now with only myself to look out for me. You had no way of knowing what I did… do…. You still don’t know the whole of it even. I never allowed you to know."
"I see. Do you feel comfortable telling me ‘the whole of it’? I wouldn’t mind hearing. As long as we’ve gotten past this vampire thing, why keep secrets?"
Reah weighed her options in her head. On one hand she technically wouldn’t be lying to Sam every night saying she was going for a long walk, but he would get suspicious and insist on coming along, possably hurt by trying to follow her.
On the other hand, she could tell him. Then what? *Hey Sam, yeah I hunt vampires and have been for the past three to four years!* He wouldn’t just accept that! What dickhead wants to hunt vampires? He mightn’t want to know her anymore… ask her to move out! Who knows what else this new attitude he has will make him do?
She looked away, "I’m not sure."
Sam didn’t want to push her. He said, "Maybe one of these days you’ll feel that you can trust me more."
There it was. Sam was so nice it killed her! *He’ll find out sooner or later right? Better now than later. Right?* Reah slumped down on the couch, sinking right back into the recesses of the cushioning, bracing herself.
"I hunt vampires," she muttered below her breath biting every word, then closed her eyes holding back any tears that dared to show themselves, and waited for the door to close.
Now it was Sam’s turn. He shrugged his shoulders and said, "Makes sense. Do you do it for a living, or is it a hobby?"
Reah opened her eyes, surprised to hear him answer something without ‘bye’ or ‘please leave’ in its contents. And he was still standing in the same spot! She looked at him before answering, eyes wet with unshed tears. She felt so stupid for it and cursed herself.
Snapping out of her look she sighed out a small wisp of a laugh. "Living. Hobby. A bit of both. Although I think revenge sums it up nicely."
Sam looked at her, confusion and worry creasing his forehead. "Revenge?"
Reah sighed and reached out for him with her hand, "Sit down Sam." He stared at her hand for a while as though the gesture wasn’t registering in his head. "Please!" He finally moved to look at her, then complied with her request, taking her hand and letting himself be seated, unsure. He squirmed around a bit on the seat before finding a position he found most comfortable to hear whatever she was about to say.
Season Two: Aug 6 2005 - Jan 6 2006
Thursday, 18th August 2005 – 2:00pm
Tash swam from the depths of her nightmare, reaching to Victor for comfort. Her brain slowly registered that something wasn't right. Victor was too soft. Much too soft. She sighed and released the pillow she was clutching.
She rolled her head and peered at the glowing numbers on the clock. 12:28. *Hmm, afternoon already.* After dropping off Galen last night she'd hunted locally for a couple more hours, then returned home to her empty flat and had a long, cold shower. It really hadn't done much to help. In some ways, now that she was aware of how alien these feelings were they seemed worse. It was like knowing you're having a nightmare, but still unable to move or cry out.
Sighing heavily, Tash threw off the covers and went about her ‘morning’ routine of shower and coffee. She tried to stop thinking about her own emotional turmoil, but that only led to her worrying about whether Victor was still alive or not. Her stomach kept knotting every time she thought of him being hunted and trapped by Xavier.... *Goddam it, woman! Worrying about him isn't going to help him.*
Finally she decided to gather her gear and go upstairs for some more training. Yesterday with Sorrow it had helped her to focus. Maybe she could reach that calm spot again. She locked her apartment door behind her then started, suddenly aware of a presence in the hallway with her.
Sighing, melancholy, Reah slowly trudged her way back down the corridor to the penthouse to help Sam get the rest of the furniture lugged back to their apartment. The whole thought of it just made her want to collapse down on the ground and never have to worry about moving again.
She hated her life – it had never hit her how much though until now. It was the first time in a long time since she’d talked about her past, and the last time she tried to face her events with someone else helping her through it hadn’t lasted very long… a whole quarter of a counselling session before she abruptly ended it and took to handling her mourning her own way.
She continued to trudge along, soft soles dragging across the hall deep in thought, when a small cough suddenly caught her attention just ahead in her direct path. Lifting her head laboriously she noticed a friendly dark face staring back at her. The woman seemed familiar, but Reah couldn’t quite place her.
Tash almost reeled from the incalculable sadness emanating from Reah. "Reah?" Tash saw the vague light of recognition in the girl's eyes. "Sorry, I do have the advantage of knowing you'd moved in here. It's Tash - I was at your shop the other day buying a crossbow." Tash smiled at Reah, trying not to let the feelings of pain and loss washing over her affect her too badly. They mingled all too well with her own doubt and worry.
Reah stared at Tash for a while before registering the conversation that had just passed. Her mouth twitched in an attempt to return the smile. “Hi Tash.”
Her face screwed up as the rest of the talk processed through her head. “You knew I lived here?” This seemed weird; she hardly knew Tash, she was a customer she’d served, yet here she was! Talking to her. And knowing she lived here! “How…?” Reah started quite dazed, then trailed off, her face a mask of troubled confusion as she gazed at Tash.
Tash smiled, trying to boost her own mood and hopefully also Reah's as a result. "Sam," she explained gently, "I've come to know Sam over the past few days, and he told me about you. I put two and two together and realised you were the same person as the one in The Armoury." Tash's smile broadened, "Nothing mysterious at all, I assure you. So, how are you settling in?"
Reah sniffed, a hint of a smile on her face at the mention of Sam’s name. Sam was wonderful, a true friend. She felt strangely relieved to have been able to share her past with someone. She was glad it was him.
She nodded, going with the flow of the conversation. “Good, good. You…?” She sighed and slapped her forehead lightly, “Sorry, not thinking that clearly. Just one of those days… or weeks as it would seem.” She shook her head. “How do you know Sam?”
Tash put down her bag of gear and leaned against the wall, making herself comfortable. "He works here. And I've started teaching him self-defence. You of all people know how dangerous this city can be."
Tash left it at that for now. Sam might live with Reah, but Tash wasn't sure how much he'd told her of his run-ins with the supernatural. She nodded to the stairs leading up. "I've got a training room on the third floor - you should come up and check it out."
Reah felt as though her neck should have snapped with sudden eagerness at the mention of a training room, but her head felt like lead and her neck of jelly. Instead she just smiled lightly. Perhaps later she would perk up and come bursting through Tash’s door. The thought made her chuckle inside.
Then something sparked in Reah. *Self defence? Sam? Tash? Train?…Oooh!* A piece just fell in place and things started to make sense. *So Tash is the reason for Sam’s new sense of invincability!* She made the assumption that Tash hadn’t done it on purpose - Tash didn’t seem the sort of person to let someone like Sam to get overconfident, but then again she barely knew her.
“Thanks. I know what you mean. I’ve been meaning to do something with Sam.” Reah sniffed. “Although you may want to cross check him. I don’t know how long he’s been training, but he insisted he accompany me on my ‘night walks’ and tried to prove he was capable of protecting me by impaling an innocent fly on the wall with his… stake.” Reah frowned. She really hated herself for what she had said to Sam. She rubbed her eyes to clear them of a growing wetness.
Tash closed her eyes and shook her head. "Oh, God..." she murmured. "He's been doing well," Tash frowned, "Surprisingly well for only three lessons. But by no means is he up to going out on a hunt yet! In fact, I'm not training him for that. Merely to defend himself if trouble comes his way. And that stake..." Tash glanced at Reah. "Have you seen it?"
Reah nodded solemnly. “I’ve seen it. Don’t worry; I guessed you probably didn’t mean it. You’ve seen the type of guy he is, and you know what it’s like out there.” She sighed.
“Besides, I think I’ve already handled it now,” she added ruefully. “I actually think he wasn’t intending on hunting, I think he was just insisting on protecting me.” She smiled for a moment before it started to fade from her face, “But you should have seen how he was acting!”
Tash grimaced. As Reah mentioned Thumper her uncertainty about it flashed through her aura. And Sam acting strange? He'd been so peculiar the other afternoon on the stairs, too.
"I have to say," Tash dropped her voice, aware she was still in the hallway, "that I'm a little worried about that stake. Do you know much about this Hesch guy Sam got it from?"
Reah could only agree with Tash - that stake was going to be trouble no matter how much Reah tried to convince herself otherwise. And Hesch. At Tash’s mention of his name Reah’s eyes narrowed, anger building up inside. All misery from before was nothing but a grain of sand now compared to the distaste that name brought. He made her want to retch. “Hesch. Yes. Interesting fellow that!” She hated the man the moment he first opened his mouth to speak, but now she loathed him for giving Sam the stake.
“Frankly I don’t quite like the fat bastard!” she said turning to face Tash. “All I know is that he’s a sneaky little worm that does not deserve Sam’s friendship.” She thought for a moment to herself, inclining her head. “In fact if I had my own guess I’d say he was hiding something.”
Tash's misgivings sat in her forebrain, jumping up and down and screaming 'I told you so' at her. The only outward sign she gave was a resigned sigh, "I had a dirty feeling there was going to be something wrong there. Sam is a trusting soul. One of the things I'm hoping to teach him in our lessons is a healthy sense of paranoia. But so far, I don't think that's taken."
Tash picked up her bag of gear. "Look, probably here isn't the best place to talk. You've got moving to do, and Sam's waiting for you upstairs. Why don't you pop around for a coffee sometime? This one's mine," Tash motioned to the door behind her.
"And," she added, still trying to block out the worst of Reah's melancholy, "we can maybe cheer you up a little. In fact," sudden inspiration hit, "there's a party on Saturday that's a bit of a free-for-all. Would you like to come? I'll be there, and you can meet Victor." *Assuming he's not dead,* Tash thought with a gulp.
Reah considered what Tash had said. She hadn’t been out in a while…*Shit! Scratch that! I haven’t been out in ages!* she thought with sudden realisation. The suggestion was starting to appeal to her; she definitely needed the break. “Sure. Sounds good.”
She smiled with a little less effort, then chuckled subtly. “I probably should get back to Sam before he breaks his back trying to move a mattress on his own.”
"Great! Look, I'll pop a note with the details under your door. Bring Sam along. In fact, I'll let him know about it when I see him tonight, too. And really," Tash leaned in close, lowering her voice again, "if there's anything you can tell me about that stake or Hesch, I'd like to know. I'll keep an eye on Sam if I can, but I'd like to know if we really have anything to worry about. There's someone else I want to ask about them, too." *Not to mention Galen's mysterious 'Majestic'. Man, I hope Sorrow's database is up to this when I see him.*
Tash straightened and hefted her bag of gear over her right shoulder. "Have fun moving furniture. I'll see you around." Tash waved and took the stairs two at a time, anxious to get into her training routine.
"Later!" Reah called after her. The sudden volume in her voice compared to what it had been surprised her that she managed to put in the effort.
Tash was definitely a good person, one she meant to catch up with for sure now. Reah soon followed after her up the stairs to the penthouse, her stride a little more upbeat than before.
Season Two: Aug 6 2005 - Jan 6 2006
Friday, 19th August 2005 – 3pm
Victor slid the tiny box to the back of the drawer. As he was closing the drawer, Henna walked in. She started, then smiled, "I'm not sure I can get used to that new look of yours, Mr. Tek. I'm not even really sure if I believe the story you told me about it being magic."
Victor smiled back at her, glad that she wasn't used to his appearance. *That means she can't recognise the guilty look on my face.*
She laid a FedEx letter on his desk and asked him to sign. As he penned his signature she started to giggle. "I still don't believe it," she muttered as she wandered back downstairs.
Tash descended to the second floor, dried sweat clinging to her body. While the workout so far had been good, she decided she wanted to do some more sword work, but her sword was still under her bed.
The urge to hunt was already growing, though she still had her lesson with Sam to come before she could go. The drive to go out always grew as the night lengthened. Tash thought maybe she'd be better off if she ignored it once in a while, but despite good intentions she'd find herself kitted up and ready to go.
She reached the bottom step and spied Henna leaving Victor's office, a bemused smile on the girl's face.
"Hi, Henna," Tash called.
Henna looked up, startled out of her amusement, "Oh, hi Tash." She jerked her thumb over her shoulder, "I don't know how you cope with that change - if it were my boyfriend I'd find it really freaky." Henna blushed, suddenly worried that she'd been too forward.
Tash's eyes crinkled. "Yeah, it takes a bit of getting used to. But," Tash stood more erect, "what, is he here? Now?" She couldn't keep the surprise and excitement from her voice.
Henna nodded, puzzled. "In his office. Why? Where else would he be?"
Tash barely registered Henna's question. "Uh, never mind... Thanks, Henna, I'll see you later." Tash practically ran down the hallway to what used to be apartment 202. She burst through the open door, all her usual caution thrown to the wind. Her eyes widened as she saw Victor, his back to her. A back that was covered in yellow, oozing slime. Her cry of welcome turned to a question. "Victor?"
Victor looked up from where he had been swabbing the slime off his office chair. "Tash? I thought you'd be working out... uh... I'm okay, it looks worse than it is. At least I think it does... I can't see it, just feel it."
He held up a finger to his lips and indicated for Tash to close the door.
Tash pushed the door closed with her foot. "But are you ok? I mean, is it over? I kept imagining you dead somewhere, and I felt so damn useless not knowing where you were... And you're hurt!" Tash stepped close to him and stroked his face gently.
Victor smiled at her tenderness. This was the woman he had fallen in love with. He sighed, "It’s not over, I don't think. But it is definitely between rounds. But you know what? I think I am going to wait until this headache goes away to tell you."
Victor walked to the door and opened it a crack to peer out. "Looks clear. Let’s go to your place and I can get cleaned up."
He opened the door and as he stepped into the hallway he lurched wobbly across the span like a drunken sailor.
Tash swallowed, wondering at the extent of his injuries. She quickly locked the office door behind her and steadied Victor before opening her own door. "Here, we need to get you down. Couch is closer, bed is more comfy. Which?"
Victor welcomed the support but he didn't want to ruin the couch or the bed, "Let’s go to the bathtub first. Once I am cleaned up some then we can try the bed."
"Bathtub?" Tash shook her head, "No, you're hurt. I don't mind the mess. Hell, I've had you sliming over most of this flat at one time or another." She looked at his eyes crossing with the effort of trying to focus. "Couch, I think."
She steered him towards the couch. The very same one where Daye had healed her own fractured skull only a few days earlier. Tash sighed. She'd only just got the blood out and now it was going to have demon ichor. Her dry-cleaning bill would be horrendous again this month.
Most of the ichor seemed to be coming from the back of his head, but she couldn't be sure if the rest of his back was ok. "Lie on your front," she suggested to Victor, "and I'll have a look at this."
Victor rolled over as instructed but his damn leg would not stop twitching. He could feel Tash poking at the place where the slime was oozing out. He also heard her quick intake of breath.
Tash couldn't help her soft exclamation. "Shit, Victor. Looks like someone got you with a machete."
She was bursting to know just what had happened, but first things first - Victor needed to be patched up. She pulled off her gloves and hoped that she still had enough ability to centre herself properly for this. She closed her eyes and let her hands move forward until they touched smooth chitin. She ran her hands up his back, feeling no breaks in the armour. "So far, so good," she murmured.
Then she reached the back of his skull. The hole was about two inches wide and seemed to be quite deep. She did what Victor had taught her so many months ago and scooped up the slime that was dripping down his back to pack it into the hole.
Victor’s hand reflexively reached back and snatched at her wrists. He missed... by a considerable margin. "Sorry, hon. Autonomic defense... there must be something really sensitive behind that injury. Be careful and don't poke in the hole."
"I'm being as gentle as I can," Tash soothed. "And I'm just sliding this stuff in. It's a deep gash here, darling. Is there anything else I can do apart from filling it with slime?" She frowned at the lack of co-ordination. Victor usually was so deft.
"No, in fact it would probably be better if I just lie here face down for a while. This isn't like the other wounds I've gotten. This time it went deep into my brain. I have redundancies... but the slime is working overtime on repair."
Victor’s leg continued to twitch and his fingers had a tremor to them.
*He'll be ok. I know he will. He has to be.* Tash kissed Victor's shoulder. "I love you. Hang on a sec, I'll be right back."
She ran to the bathroom, washed the goop off her hands, pulled her gloves back on and grabbed her first aid kit. Taking it back to the lounge room she fished out a thick gauze bandage and placed it over the wound, then used another to wrap around Victor's head. "There, that'll stop that stuff leaking out again. How come it didn't congeal like the last time?"
She picked up Victor's hand as she sat on the floor beside him and laid her cheek next to his.
Victor spoke but his voice was beginning to slur, "S’prbly doin’ reconstrukshun indere," he mumbled. "D'slime hazto rebuil brain tssue. Mi be cupla hrrz. Betta be ready t'moov if I hva seizure."
He reached a hand up to touch her cheek. He winked with a droopy eye, "Lv u." And then he went limp. Victor was aware of everything going on around him, but he could not make his body move. He could hear Tash outside patting his hand and cheek. *I'm Okay!* he thought to her as clearly as possible. But it was hard to concentrate. The noise made his eyes hurt. The taste was rough and the smell made his ears ring.
Then the lights came back. He could move, and he looked up at Tash, "Oh, that’s much better. How long?"
Tash opened her eyes at his sudden words. She’d been sitting on the floor beside him, just holding his hand and watching him until her legs went numb. She knew all she had to do was wait – that he was healing himself. His speech may have been all but incomprehensible, but that single thought had been clear. ’I’m okay.’
Now she smiled and laid a tender kiss on his lips. "A couple of hours, love." She searched the depths of his eyes. This stranger's face still held Victor's eyes, albeit in a different shape and colour. But even so it was his soul that shone from them. "How are you feeling?"
Victor could feel that his leg had stopped twitching and his hands seemed steady. He reached back beneath the bandage to feel the hole at the back of his head. The slime had started to clot and he could feel the paper-thin covering over the hole. "Good. I feel good. That has never happened before. Not sure I like what... hang on... hmm."
Tash's eyes flicked back and forth. "What?" she asked worriedly.
Victor tilted his head to one side slightly and pursed his lips. "That's odd. I have a memory that wasn't there before. I'm not sure how I know that, though."
Victor's eyes stared into space as he reflected on this newfound knowledge, "It's like something I knew but didn't know. Last week, I saw something that was removed. I was riding with Al Hesch the cab driver. I saw a woman at After Dark. Kimmie, I think that's what Eri said her name was. Then I talked to the waitress at the Denny's and she told me that I would have to forget what I saw."
Victor focused on the present. "Tash, I think Sam may be in a lot more trouble than we thought."
Tash's brain reeled. "Hesch? You've met Hesch? And who the hell is Kimmie and Eri? Waitress at Denny's?" She tried to process what Victor was saying, but too many of the names meant nothing to her. Except After Dark. She knew that was a vampire haunt.
And Hesch.
She blinked, "I think you're right. Sam is in trouble. This Hesch guy gave him a stake. There's an aura about it - and it's definitely magical. I tried to touch it, but first I had to explain to Sam what would happen, and he wouldn't let me."
Tash inhaled deeply. "But when was all this? Who are these other people? Maybe if you go through it in sequence it'll become clear."
Victor took a deep breath. Connections were being made as the memories strengthened and related to what Victor already knew. "Al Hesch is using Sam to get revenge on Kimmie who is Sam's ex-girlfriend. Kimmie is hanging around After Dark with Eriantha who runs the place. Eriantha and I knew each other when I was in LA during the Gold Rush. She's... wrong. Kimmie. She doesn't fit."
Victor then went through the events from Sunday night a week ago. He related his conversation with Hesch, the fight, and the holy water. He talked about seeing them in her apartment days later. Each story ended with Denny's.
“There is something wrong with Sue, the waitress. Waitresses don't change shifts like she does. She always seems to be there. I think she is the one who has rearranged my memories. The slime has repaired whatever it is she did."
Tash thought back to the bite marks she'd seen on Sam's neck when she first met him. "So, your friend Eriantha runs After Dark? And this Kimmie was there... Is Kimmie a vampire? Sam had bite marks, you know. Lots of them. I suspect your friend and her friends have been feeding off him."
Tash still found it hard to come to terms with some of Victor's old acquaintances. More often than not they were beings she'd stake as soon as look at. "And that waitress. Are you thinking witch, or a demon of some kind?”
Victor made that strange face he always made when he was sure that Tash wanted to impale his acquaintances. "Eriantha is a vampire but they don't feed on the unwilling or the innocent." *At least they didn't used to.*
"Kimmie isn't a vampire; or if she is, she's unlike any one I ever saw. She was drenched in holy water and not so much as a sizzle. Three other vamps there turned into mud pies."
Victor took Tash's hand, "As for this waitress, I think it may be worse than just another demon. I am thinking justice demon... more popularly known as a vengeance demon."
Tash looked at Victor blankly. "Gotta say, love, demons aren't my forte. Never heard of a vengeance demon. Though I can guess. Some schmuck prays for revenge and gets it, right? In spades, I'm betting."
She sighed, "You know, it'd be nice to have a night every so often where we do normal things." She laughed hollowly, "Yeah, that's right. I forgot - we aren't normal. And really, I think the normal life would bore us to death." She placed his hand on her cheek. "The vampire hunter and her demon lover," she grinned.
"I don't know from normal, anyway. All I know is you," said Victor kissing Tash.
Victor stood up and stood steadily. He sat on the couch and patted the cushion next to him. As Tash sat he explained his concern, "Vengeance demons are the servants of D'Hoffran and they dispense justice to ex lovers and unfaithful husbands. Usually it is women or children... the innocent... who seek vengeance. But there are a few who deal in the more general types of revenge."
Victor pulled Tash close and closed his eyes. They were beginning to ache in this light, though the headache was subsiding a little. "The problem with the v-demon is that it has almost unlimited power to carry out the vengeance wish."
The light dawned for Tash, "So while someone's wish is still unfulfilled, this demon can do practically anything? Hmm, and you say Kimmie is Sam's ex-girlfriend, but there's something not quite human about her... Do you think she called for vengeance on Sam? He did have those bite marks. Maybe she wished he'd be eaten by monsters or something... And where does Hesch fit into that?"
Tash threw up her hands. "I think we're missing some vital pieces here." Silence for a beat, then, "Oh, God. When I first spoke to Sam, I picked up something very strong from him. It felt like he was shouting in my mind, it was so powerful. Something or someone called Bunny." Tash frowned, trying to recall the jumble of images she'd received from Sam that first day in the training room. "He thought of it as a beast - perhaps a demon? I think he wants to kill it... don't know where that fits in though.”
*Oh Ghortab, no.* If Victor could have blanched he would have. It was too horrible to contemplate. Sam and 'the one'... Victor did not feel fear but he was very, very worried.
"I hope is isn't that," he said with a slight shiver, "There may be other explanations, too." *Bunniko?* The possibility seemed too remote to consider.
"Tash, I know where Hesch fits in. He called the demon on Kimmie. Kimmie used to see Hesch and left him for Sam. But she is back with Hesch, now. I know you can't call off a v-wish. Somehow, whatever Kimmie is has ruined it for the demon. I don't know what Sam wants revenge on. But if he wished vengeance that causes a conflict. There may be no way to resolve this without... divine intervention."
Tash gave Victor a sidelong glance. His reaction had been almost fearful for a few seconds. It wasn't an emotion she was used to feeling from him. She raised one eyebrow, "There's a demon out there that you're terrified of, and it's called ‘Bunny'?" She knew that names didn't necessarily describe the beast in question, but it was hard not to smirk.
The look from Victor made her subside a little, "Ok, ok... I'll bet it's got really long teeth or something. So," she changed the subject, "Hesch's wish is still unfulfilled, and Sam may have made a wish too? On who? The bunny monster, or Kimmie? And the demon who's trying to make these wishes come true has fucked it up somehow? Yay... our lives just get more and more simple, don't they?" Tash rolled her eyes.
*She's a big girl. Time she knew the truth.* "This is going to sound strange, but bunnies are potentially dangerous. Apocalyptically dangerous."
Only Tash's look of incredulity made Victor go on, "There are roughly 3,349,845,900 bunnies in the world. One of them is 'chosen'. If all the rest of the rabbits are lucky, that one has to balance all of the others with bad luck."
Victor waited for her to shiver in terror. He was disappointed.
Tash's laugh echoed off the lounge room walls. After a minute she wiped a tear from one eye, "Oh, that's good. You're talking a cute, little, fluffy white bunny rabbit, right?" She dissolved into gales of laughter again at Victor's exasperated expression.
After a minute more she realised he hadn't joined in with her laughter. "You're serious, aren't you? Are you really serious?"
Victor nodded sombrely. "It really freaked me out the first time I heard it. And the longer I knew about it the worse it was. About a thousand years ago or so I just stopped obsessing over it. But many of the other-world community are really, really terrified of bunnies."
Victor nuzzled Tash closer, "Can we stop talking about it now?"
"Wow. Bunnies, huh?" Tash hid her smile behind Victor's neck, but try as she might, she couldn't keep the amusement out of her voice, "Sure, we won't talk about the mean bunny rabbit any more."
She sat up suddenly, "Oh, I just had a thought. If they all feel like this, imagine how much fun it would be to release about twenty rabbits into a room full of demons? Hehe, they'd all run screaming out the back..."
Tash kissed Victor, "Sorry, I shouldn't make light of it. But I'm having a hard time coming to terms with the idea of a 'chosen' bunny. Grotesque monsters, undead fiends, yeah, they're my stock in trade." She snuggled back onto his shoulder, "Ok, I really won't talk about it any more. In fact," she snuggled deeper, "it's very nice just to cuddle with you. It's been a long time since we just sat together you know."
Victor hugged her, "We've talked too much recently. I'd rather just sit."
"Hmm," Tash sighed in contentment at the feel of strong arms around her. Victor's new scent was still strange to her, but it wasn't unpleasant. Quite the opposite, really. She inhaled deeply and sighed again. "Soon you'll have to tell me what happened today. You obviously had a run-in with Xavier. But it can wait." She tilted her face up and kissed Victor deeply. "Hmm, it can definitely wait. You're safe, and you're back. That's all I care about right now."
Victor lifted Tash and carried her silently into the bedroom. He rolled onto the soft surface and arranged her over him. He kissed her as he peeled the workout clothes off her. They had white rings of sweat on them where it had dried in the fabric. Salt. Victor could taste it mixed with Tash's subtle perfume. There was the musky odor of effort but under that a sweet unique scent.
He ran his fingers over her skin tracing the many marks she had accumulated as a hunter. Some of them old and barely visible and others new with crisp little scabs on them. Her muscles rippled under her skin unhampered by fat.
She lay back in the bed, emitting soft moans and subtle noises as she experienced Victor's questing fingers touching her in places only he could. His touch went in her and touched her energies and over her and touched her heart. It alternated between tangible and intangible as she felt the hard chitin, the illusory touch, or the surge she felt when he touched her soul.
It was a constant source of wonder to Tash how incredible Victor could make her feel, but it distressed her that his new glamour didn't convey the sensations that the old one had. She ran her bare hands down his back, feeling the smooth plates of armour. Surely if he could feel pain, he should be able to feel pleasure? She gasped, caught up for a moment in her own sensations as Victor's fingers found a new sensitive spot. Jolts of pleasure thrilled through her, making her toes and fingers tingle.
"Hmm," she sighed, "I want you to feel this, too..." The next time Victor brushed her soul, she opened up all her barriers. The momentary flood of voices from the apartments around her quickly faded and she grasped that part of Victor's essence that was mingled with hers.
Victor's mind opened to a new plateau. There were swirls of color and sensations that he had only barely understood. Part of him sought the pain that he could feel from Tash, but he held it back, denied it from wallowing in the familiar and negative. This was a new vista. A worry about Vrithetek found him sullen within the waves of emotion and sensation.
*I love you,* Victor felt as much as thought.
Tash melted under Victor's ministrations, and she hoped he was picking up her sensations. *And I love you. I feel like I was only half-complete without you. I want to share everything with you.*
Tash threw her head back as Victor's body merged with hers, sending currents of electricity through her. Coherent thought was no longer possible. She simply felt, and hoped that Victor was feeling it, too.
Victor could feel the waves of pleasure crashing over him. *I never knew.* Victor kept burying Vrithetek deeper until he was a dissonant note among a thousand chords.
His soul soared freed from the bondage of not knowing what it really meant to love. He was carried in her with her and to her where together they knew, *We are love.*
The moment hung in the air like a missile at apogee. Weightless and waiting, then the rush of crushing speed as the sensations withdrew. Tash cast out for Victor but he was carried out with the tide as Vrithetek broke them apart. *I am not doing that again.* Victor thought he could taste the oniony disdain of Vrithetek ruining the moment.
Tash's breathing slowed and returned to normal, and she hugged Victor close. "Ignore him, love. I somehow think he won't really have a say in whether we do that again." She gazed at Victor and felt a smile curve the corner of her mouth. "Wow," was all she could say.
Victor knew his mouth was open. He didn't care. "Can we do it again, right now?"
Tash responded with a kiss, gentle at first but growing in ardour. "Lucky for you I'm fit," she giggled. "But I wish I had better control over my telepathy. I'll wear out mentally first." She cupped his face in her hands, savouring the quiet moment.
"You know, what we have is really quite remarkable. I love you, Victor, more than I can say."
Victor relished the magic they could work together. This was new and wonderful and Vrithetek hated every moment of it, but he was powerless as a ship moored to a pier. He rose and fell with the tide but could not stop it.
Hours later Tash finally begged Victor to let her rest. She was exhausted both mentally and physically. Victor too was feeling the strain of the mental ordeal. He sat next to the bed on the floor where her hand could touch his cheek while he meditated and she slept.
Saturday, 20th August 2005 – 8AM
Alice laid across Joe’s bed watching Saturday morning cartoons. *It's hard to find a good Buster, Babs, or Bugs cartoon anymore. What is a Charmander anyway?* Alice thought as she changed the channel. She looked at Joe’s tired body. *I’ll probably give him a heart attack if we keep up this pace. Two days of this should be enough.*
*****Two days ago - Thursday *****
Joe Mante came home Thursday from another disappointing day of bad deal making. *Out of four potential clients, one was way overpriced, two tried to rob me, and the last was a cop. If this day gets any worse I’ll have to shoot someone.* Joe mentally grumbled. "That is, if I can remember my gun.”
Joe thumbed through his mail as he opened his door. As he entered the main room of the Armoury he heard a noise from upstairs. Joe quickly grabbed the 9mm he kept under the counter and ran up the steps. Reaching his bedroom he found a woman sitting on his bed with broken glass all over the floor.
The woman pointed up to the ceiling, "You really need to fix your skylight."
She was spread across his bed wearing a low-cut scarlet silken dress that showed her muscular tan legs and her ample breasts well. Joe's eyes wandered to her sultry Latino face surrounded by a wealth of thick waves of dark brown hair that flowed to her waist.
Joe looked above and grumbled, turning his gaze back to the woman. "It would appear so wouldn't it?" He paused, "What do you want?"
"You really should be more trusting," she said as she looked around the room. She got up and moved to his dresser, "I hear you're a really bad boy."
Joe could only stare at how the woman’s backless dress accentuated her perfectly tan back.
"That depends on who you've been talking to, and WHO the hell are you?" He kept his gun steadily pointed at her as she wandered about his things.
Putting her left hand on her hip the woman turns toward Joe, “You can all me Alice.” Then she went back to her snooping. Alice looked in Joe’s dresser. "Do you have any protection other than that gun in here?"
Alice pulled out some of Joe’s underwear. "These are nice."
Joe racked his brains, *There's a woman going through my underwear... complimenting them, asking if I have protection...!* "What sort of protection?"
Alice looked at Joe. "Now you're not really going to ruin this dress are you?"
"Depends. Why are you here?"
"I'm here to make all your bad luck disappear." Alice walked up close to Joe. "You can frisk me if you want to dear."
Joe could only stare, "Come again?" He couldn't believe his luck!
"Dear, I haven't started to come yet."
"HA!" Joe slapped his free hand over his mouth to stop the sudden burst of laughter. *She wouldn't have to wait long with me!* he thought slyly with a smirk on his face.
"I'll drop mine if you drop yours," Alice slipped the shoulder straps off her shoulders and let her dress fall to the floor.
***** Saturday - Joe’s bed ******
“Well, I'm tired of this now.” Alice got out of bed and pulled the bag out from under it. After a minute of searching she found her cell phone. Alice dialed a number, “Ciao, Lasciare io favellare Zio Vinnie.... si... si.. Lui ecco..“*
*” Hello, Get me uncle Vinnie... yes ..yes.. He’s here.”
Alice kicked Joe’s bed, “Wake up!” Joe moved too slowly so she shoved the phone in his face, “I suggest you take this call.”
“Err. Hello?” Joe said sleepily.
“Joey, you slime, did you really think you could run?”
“Uncle Vinnie ? Oh shit!” Joe snapped awake.
“Yes it's me. You shut up and listen to me. You hurt me Joey. I give you twenty million dollars and you run like a thief in the night. I should kill you myself, but I'm not going to.”
“You're not?” Joe looked at the still naked Alice.
“No, you get to live, you rat. However, I’m going to hurt you too, Joey. Alice has all the details. Do what she tells you or the next time I send someone for you, you we’ll not be walking away. Capice?"
“Yes sir.”
CLICK
Joe looked at Alice, “You played me, hum? What are you going to do?”
“No, Joe, I played with you. Vinnie has instructed me to take everything you have Joe. I have some papers for you to sign and I can let you go on your not so merry way.” Alice knelt down between Joe’s legs and handed him some documents from her bag.
“So what are these?” Joe asked, scanning the pages.
“One is legal document that turns ownership of The Armoury to an unnamed buyer. We will fill in the blank later. One is the title to your convertible - which I get to keep - and a letter to your bank transferring The Armoury account to its new owner.”
Joe snatched the pen Alice was holding out to him and began to sign the papers angrily, “And then what happens?”
“Well I give you your allowances and you get lost. Your Uncle Vinnie doesn’t want to ever see you or hear of you again.”
“Well, since I'm entitled to some allowances...” Joe smiled, looking at Alice’s position.
“Sure baby. Anything you want. Think of it as payment for your car,” Alice began to kiss Joe’s thigh.
Moments into his "payment" Joe slowly reached behind the night stand and pulled his pistol. ”You damn bitch! You really think I'm going to let you walk out with those papers?”
Alice looked up at the gun. “Didn’t your mother ever teach you it's rude to point a gun at a girl when her mouth is full?”
In one quick fluid motion Alice grabbed Joe’s gun from him with her left hand and slammed a stun gun into Joe’s groin with her right.
Joe writhed in pain as the electrifying current immobilized him. “Joe you dummy. Looks like I go back to plan 'A'.”
Alice pulled a set of handcuffs from her bag, ”Just think of all the fun we could have had.”
She cuffed Joe’s hands behind his back and went back to her bag. She pulled out a tattoo gun from it and straddled Joe’s waist. She held his head to one side and began to tattoo his neck.
Minutes later Joe found he could move a little - and even scream, ” WHAT ARE YOU DOING? THAT BURNS!”
Alice held his head tighter and continued her work, “Shut up, Joe. If you mess me up I'll have to start over. Besides you don’t want to be a mutant hamster or something do you?”
*Mutant hamster? MUTANT HAMSTER!* Joe thought and began to struggle to get free. Alice sat up and droped the tattoo gun on the bed. She punched Joe's jaw with a hard right cross, knocking him out in one hit. “Hmm… glass jaw.” Then she went back to her work.
***** Two hours later*****
Joe woke to a burning in his neck. He looked around to see Alice fully dressed and sitting at his desk drinking. “Welcome back Joe. I hope you rested well. Tell me does your neck still hurt?”
“What did you do? Why did you tattoo me?”
“You’ll see her shortly, hon.”
In moments Joe noticed his neck stopped hurting. ”Hey the pain's gone. What is going on?”
“Good,” Alice said and stood up, “Zonbin arwith betix arbin.” Alice walked to the bed saying these words over and over. Then she laid two fingers on the tattoo at the side of Joe’s neck and it began to glow. The glow spread to Joe’s whole body. In a flash he was gone.
Alice moved the satin sheets to find Joe in his new body. She smiled as she picked up the small hairless mouse. She lifted it in front of her face, “I did tell you not to move. But I wasn’t too far off.”
Taking Joe downstairs she went over to Darling's case.
Reah jumped the steps and got to the double doors of the Armoury and pushed them open, allowing her entry.
She briskly walked in, allowing the doors to close on their own account, then stopped in her tracks as she noticed some woman holding a box of mice and dangling one of the poor creatures by its tail over the opening in Darling's, what seemed new, cage. She shuddered, *Joe had to put it right behind the counter, didn’t he?*
She walked slowly up to the counter, “Um… hello?” She didn’t think she needed to ask, but out of habit, “Can I… help?…you?”
Alice put the mouse in the box marked "food"and turned. "Reanna, isn’t it?” Alice smiled. ”Hello again.”
Reah blinked. “Again?” she squinted.
“Joe told me about you. I just guessed it was you really. I'm Alice, I’ve been the... guest of Joe’s for the last two days. I have some bad news I'm afraid." Alice's smile faded.
A sly grin crept on her face at the woman's hesitation before calling herself Joe's ‘guest’. If she knew Joe, 'guest' would be the understatement of the year. The grin soon slipped and alarm bells were ringing in Reah’s head, *Bad news!*
“Joe isn’t dead is he?” she asked, suddenly panicked.
“I’m not sure you know this, but Joe was in some serious trouble. He was in debt to some Mob guys. He had to skip town for a while. I don’t know when he is coming back.”
Reah was still for a moment. She went to open her mouth, then closed it again thinking. *Ok…. So. Joe's apparently having mob trouble again. Have they found him? Shit! And whose this woman anyway?* So many questions ran through her head she didn’t know where to begin. *First things first.*
“Who are you?”
Alice pulled a Manila folder out from her bag and handed it to Reah, “He got a call this morning and was all in a rush. He gave me this to give to you.”
Reah took the folder, suspiciously eying the woman who continued to avoid her question. Her glance shot briefly down to the folder she handled cautiously then back to the woman. “Thanks. “Who are you?” she persisted. Something was seriously wrong here.
"Oh I'm Alice. Me and Joe kinda hit it off Thursday." Alice smiled again, "He was good too. I've been here a few days. What did he give you? Does it say where he is or when he's coming back?"
Gradually she turned her gaze from Alice and looked at the folder in her hands, “You don’t know what this is?” She asked, peering at her from lowered eyes as she slowly began to lift it open. Alice just stood there watching her intently. Reah turned her gaze back to the folder and strolled off to the side where Alice couldn’t see the pages as she opened the folder the rest of the way.
She froze.
*Wha…? The… huh?* Her mouth worked, trying to talk, but no words would come. Even gathering saliva was something of a impossability.
"Are you ok? Dear? You all right?"
Alice’s worry barely reached Reah as she continued to stare at the pieces of paper with inked words on them in front of her. She couldn’t believe it. Thoughts had run so madly through her head that she’d reached an immediate ‘shut down’ and was currently trying to reset to get her mind back and running.
*The deeds to the Armoury! The bloody… the… the…!* Finally she understood. “Oooh!” She smiled, pleased with herself, then burst out laughing… with a hint of nerves just barely noticable. “I get it!” She turned to Alice with tears in her eyes, “Despite his everyday personality, he is quite the pisser! HAHA!”
"What does it say... You get what?" Alice was looking happy, almost laughing too.
Reah sighed, wiping a tear from her eye. “Oh, it’s just a contract, handing the deeds of the Armoury over to me.” She snickered. “WHOA! You nearly had me worried there for a second!”
"Oh right, that was why he traded his car with me and he also asked if you can look after Darling till he can send for her.”
Reah’s laughing was cut short. “Huh?” She shook her head, “Nah, nah, nah! This is just a joke!” She slapped the papers. “He wouldn’t seriously hand the Armoury over to me! I can work in one, but I wouldn’t know the first thing about managing one!” She laughed again, but it was more like a cry for help. “Plus he’d never leave Darling in my care! I hate the damn thing!” She searched Alice’s face for a sign of, ‘ha ha! We were joking, and you’re on candid camera!’
"Well he was in a hurry. I don’t think he was really altogether himself." Alice looked more worried.
Reah shook her head slowly at Alice, disagreeing. Not the look she was supposed to give.
Stressed Reah began scanning back over the deed trying to find any hints of a yellow 'postit' saying, ‘Haha! Joke on you Reah!’ Even a pink 'postit' would have been welcome! Instead she found the noterer's seal.
A small whimper escaped from her mouth.
"Ok hun," *You little hotty you.* "I need to check back at home. So I'll let all of this soak in." Alice slowly walked to the door. "If you hear anything let me know. Okay? Or if you want to go out or something. I’ll be back around later." Alice picked up her bag and stood at the door.
“M'yeah….” Reah replied meekly, absently staring at the papers in front of her. *I’m so going to drink till I’m para tonight!*
Alice then smiled and walked out.
Victor burns a bridge and builds another
Saturday, 20th August 2005 – 7am
Tash opened her eyes to the bright sun patterning the bed. Her dreams had been full of wars and death, and the joy of tasting innocent souls. She turned her head to see her ungloved hand resting against Victor's face. She found she didn't mind the strange dreams - she was still feeling sated from last night.
She blinked. Hmm, she hadn't even felt the desire to go hunting last night. *Huh, how about that?* she mused.
Rolling to the edge of the bed she fished for her gloves and reluctantly pulled them on before resting her chin on her hands and contemplating Victor's still form. He looked so calm in repose. So peaceful. But Tash knew full well the battle that raged inside him every minute of every day, as Vrithetek and Victor vied for control.
Victor felt her move but didn’t stir. He spoke softly, "You need a shower. I love your scent, but you are overpowering right now."
For just a second Tash felt a little offended. It may be true, but it wasn't politic to tell your girlfriend she stank. But she let her olfactory system register her own funk and she had to agree with Victor. She traced one finger down a line of dried juices on his chest, "Hmm, you could use one too, you know." She poked out her tongue as his eyes opened finally.
Victor somersaulted forward and hopped into a ready stance. He turned to Tash, "See? Back to normal." He pulled off the gauze on the back of his head and touched the wound, "That will be a little vulnerable, but it's hidden and it's small."
He held out a hand to Tash, "Come, let’s wash off this... evidence... and I will tell you about what happened."
As they showered Victor relayed the events that had led to his injury. He was careful not to mention the ring (or even think about it lest she find out). But he told her about the fate of Xavier and his men...
*** Yesterday: Friday 19th August 2005 - 1pm ***
The white van pulled into the mall parking lot. Fred kept shaking his head. "How in God's name are we going to find him here?"
"Just watch," said Mick as he hopped out of the van. The four men walked into the mall. As if radiating a subtle menace, shoppers moved away. Children were hugged closer to their mothers, and gazes were averted.
Mick strolled up to the colorful directory of the mall shops. He pulled out the saltshaker he had lifted from Denny's. He shook it at the upright map and little crystals of salt formed a circle around a jewelry store on the first level.
Xavier had to grit his teeth. *Another fucking Rolex, Mr. Demon? Six isn't enough for you?* Xavier pointed to the food court just down from the store where the demon was shopping. "This area has balconies. Frank, you and Fred run back to the van and grab the harpoon grapples. Bring a winch too. The high speed one. Mick - you go here," Xavier indicated a cross over where the balconies were connected, "You point him out. And I have a little tool I have been itching to use."
Moments later the men were in position. They had placed their weapons in boxes festooned with colorful pictures of Macintosh computers. Mick was watching the salt crawl around on the tri-fold brochure he picked up at the kiosk. The little bits of salt crawled under where he was standing. He pointed down at a handsome black man then looked puzzled.
Xavier jogged over to Mick. "What the hell are you doing? That’s not the target!" he barked.
Mick tossed up his hands. "Its has to be him! That soap tracker stuff wouldn't work on a human!" Xavier wasted no time. He pointed at the black man. And closed his fist. Fire.
---
Victor walked through the mall oblivious to the crowds that were swarming around him. All he could concentrate on was the little velvet box in his pocket. Somewhere in the back of his mind that part of his brain that owed more to the designers of G’rnathan Battle Fiends than his romance with Tash reacted to danger.
He dropped and rolled instinctively and heard curses coming from above him. He saw in slow motion as the battle reflexes adjusted his perceptions. He jumped but the incoming harpoon opened into a claw and clamped hard around his ankle. He heard the whine and saw the smoke of the winch as he felt another harpoon snag his wrist.
The steel cables held him fast as they winched in opposite directions. Idle shoppers became panicked sheep as they screamed and ran in circles. Victor rose off the floor suspended under the tension of the cables. Then he saw Xavier. He was wearing a backpack. *Flamethrower.*
Xavier strode purposefully down the stairs into the court and looked up at Victor. "My prize - a Class-A Demon. Hard to catch and harder to kill. I can't believe that all it took to catch you was a bar of soap and salt.
*Damn,* thought Victor, *The trap was the soap not the powder. I hate magic.*
From his elevated vantage he could see the mall guards running in with weapons drawn. "Better look behind you Xavier," shouted Victor.
"FREEZE!" the cops commanded.
Xavier turned to face them slowly. "You stupid rent-a-cops. Can you not see I am wearing a flamethrower!" The roar of the flames shooting forth from the nozzle was intense even from twenty feet above the floor. The cops ducked and tried to put out the flames that had ignited kiosks and plastic foliage.
Alice had been walking in the mall after a long day with Joe. She stopped to get a soda from a Coke machine, but then people started screaming. She stepped beside the vending machine to have a look. Below her was a man hanging by two cables and another man holding a flamethrower. *Hmm, looks like fun. I need to get one of those.*
Xavier turned back around. He looked past Victor to Mick on the balcony behind where Victor hung. "Mick! Get this damn illusion down, would ya? We h'ain't got all day!"
Mick was busy chanting over the crowd noises. Xavier looked up at Victor. "You think you can be one of us you lizard… or maybe you are some kind of squishy slime thing. Maybe you are a bug, I don't care. Do you know how I caught you, demon? I knew you would play human one too many times. Now you've been played."
Victor spit a wad of his slime towards Xavier. A harmless gesture, but he didn't know that.
Xavier stepped back and let the gob spatter on the floor. He wagged his finger back at Victor. *Naughty demon.* "Mick! Come on! The cops will be here soon!"
Demon? Alice watched the hanged man spit a gob of yellow fluid at the flamethrower man. As it splattered harmlessly on the marble floor, Alice recognized a familiar odor. *Nah, It couldn't be.* Fuck. It was. Vrithetek.
Alice looked to see what had her old friend trapped. Standing on the other side of the vending machine was a man with his hand holding a winch lever back. Alice bent over and lifted up the edge of the Coke machine. The huge machine toppled and crushed the man. Alice threw her soda can at the other man at the far end of the cable. The full can spiraled like a football pass and hit him hard in the head, knocking him flat.
"Sit down, shut the fuck up and have a Coke and a smile!" Alice yelled as she released the lever.
The cable on his arm went slack and Victor began to swing head-down to one side of the mall. Not caring about why at the moment, Victor pulled the cable and heard the bearings of the winch complain as a loop of steel cable coiled towards Victor's hand. Xavier started to run towards the cable to grab it. He was not about to lose this kill. He placed one gloved hand on the cable and Victor flipped the slack cable and wrapped it around Xavier's neck.
Not waiting to see if he had a good lasso, Victor yanked hard. The cord had looped behind Xavier's head and around the valve that controlled the fuel for the flamethrower. Victor heard something snap and saw Xavier standing at the base of a huge plume of fire. *That should keep him busy. He's the best man for that job.*
Victor reached down and released the grapple from his leg. A quick scan took in the situation. He saw a compact but tough looking Latino woman charging down the balcony towards Mick. There was no sign of the men who had the grapples. Xavier was busy trying to extinguish his head in a fountain. Victor charged up the stairs towards the balcony.
Alice leapt across the balcony and landed on the poor man who had been chanting on the landing between the two balconies. She grabbed his head with both of her hands and quickly twisted it off like a light bulb from its socket.
Victor rounded the corner and saw a man sitting up and rubbing a red circle on his forehead. Victor growled deep in his throat as he rushed forward. Frank pulled out his knife. The combat knife he always wore. He had worn it ever since he watched that Gator crush poor Jerry. It never failed.
Frank came down hard on the top of the smaller black man's head with both hands on the knife. He heard a crunching noise, and the knife buried itself to the cross guard into his head. Victor felt the knife break through the armor. It wouldn't stop him. He rammed his horns into the large black man's chest and drove him into a concrete pillar. Blood from crushed organs spewed out of Frank's mouth.
Xavier looked up in time to see Victor push Frank limply off the balcony to land in a crumpled heap below.
"Hey, Vrithetek, you might want to get the blade out so it can heal, hon," Alice called out.
Victor turned to face the woman who had obviously helped him, "Just a second". He reached back, grabbed the knife and pulled it out straight. He jumped down towards Xavier.
Xavier pulled a wire-frame chair from under a table and slid it into Victor's landing spot. As Xavier turned to run, Victor landed badly on the chair and it skidded sideways sending him crashing to the floor.
He struggled to stand but his reflexes had obviously been affected by the head injury. His leg would not stop twitching. He looked up at the woman peering down at him from above. *She looks familiar. She used to be purple.* "Bunniko? I need help."
Alice hopped over the rail landing much better than Victor. "What's wrong, hon? Can you move?" she reached under Victor to support him.
Victor smiled at her. It had been a very long time. *Too long. She knew how to have a good time. She's evil. So am… was… I.*
"I can move, Bun, but its sorta random. Gonna take a few hours to get back some motor control. Like the people suit. Good work."
She lifted him effortlessly. "Ok, I’ll get you out of here. Did you drive? What way is your car?"
"I took a cab," said Victor, "Very Un-LA, I know. Everyone drives here. Let's use yours instead, I wouldn't trust me on the road right now."
Alice helped Victor make it to Joe's convertible and put him in the passenger seat, "You'll have to guide me. I don't really know LA. Where to, big man?"
Victor reached behind his head to feel the gash where the knife had punched through. It was oozing slime all down his back and onto the car seat. "Sorry about your car seat. Not much can get this stuff out. What brings you to LA?"
"I was just hanging around the mall too," Alice said casually and winked, "It’s not my car." *Yet.*
"Take this exit," Victor said pointing, "I live out here with a few friends. Not like the friends we used to have though. This crowd is a little... um... less..."
"Humans? It's ok, I have been staying at a 'friend's' house too," Alice took the exit a little fast.
Victor looked at the speedometer and winced. *Good thing I'm practically invulnerable.* "Do me a favor, Bun, don't turn the car into a fireball. I've had enough of that for one day."
Victor directed her to the apartment building. The convertible pulled up in front of the three-story brownstone. Victor got out; he’d felt steadier. *After that ride, anyone would be wobbly.*
"Listen, Bun. I've changed... a lot. I fight evil now." The ton of bricks was deafeningly silent.
“Fight evil hum? Well I'm not evil... Ok technically I am evil but I mean well... Ok I don’t really mean well But I'm trying... Well so I'm not trying hard.”
"So you'll understand if I don't invite you up. Listen, call me sometime," he handed her a business card, "We'll do lunch or something."
*We spend fifty years together and you say 'let’s do lunch'?* Alice said, "I know you are worried about me killing someone. Don't be. Ever hear from Talhu?"
"It’s not you I am worried about," he said aiming a thumb behind him at the building, "It’s them. It takes a while for strangers to get accepted. Especially unrepentant ones like you. As for Pravus, he was last seen siding into the Cloch Cosan before we destroyed it forever. I think he finally got away from this place he hated so much."
"Well that's good news then. Good now hum? What's that like?"
Victor thought about it. *It sucks. It has been a struggle.* "It's different. Worth it, but different. And after 2000 years there aren't that many things you can say that about."
Victor leaned forward, "Seriously, Bun, call me and we can sit down and reminisce."
"Hon, you are one of the few people I can call a 'friend'. You helped me when I needed it the most. Of course I'll call you."
Alice sat up, kissed Victor on the cheek and smiled, " Besides. You were looking down my dress again."
*** Present: Saturday, 20th August 2005 – 8am ***
Tash had a feeling that Victor had glossed over a few things in his telling - especially where it concerned this Bunniko. But like his 'old friend' Eriantha, Tash suspected that there was more to the history between them than Victor was telling her. Just one of the drawbacks of dating someone who was 2000 years old, she supposed. And even though she'd seen the wound in his head and knew that it was mostly healed now, just hearing about it happening made her shiver. Not to mention the flamethrower - she'd come so close to losing him.
"And Xavier?" she asked, "What about him? He'll be back, surely? Sorrow said he'd never give up..."
Victor nodded, "He's still out there. But he is now alone, burned, and sought not only by me but the police as well. He will be out of the way for a few days at least."
Tash hugged him tight, "Well, at least we have a few days." She pulled back, giving him a sharp look. "You'll be staying here again, right? No more disappearing on me?"
Victor made an odd smile, "We'll talk about it after the party." And he left it at that.
"Humph. Well," Tash said, taking his hand, "if you won't commit to more than tonight I'll just have to make the most of you while I've got you." She pulled him gently towards the bedroom door.
"Convergence"
Friday morning, August 19, 2005.
Special Guest Cameo: Amanda as Reah
“Bunny?”
She cringed at Bill’s voice.
“What are you doing out there?” he said.
What did he think she was doing? Making ends meet, of course.
All at once, she yanked the cords out of the surge protector. She wrapped them hand-to-elbow into a coil and madly crammed them inside the box with the monitor and hard drive. She mummified the package in duct tape.
Let him rot in that bed, the pregnant freak.
“Are you going out?” he said. “I need more carrots and sweet pickles.”
“Later days,” she said.
“Honey?”
Bunny heaved the box into her soft arms and wobbled at the knees. She smashed her knuckles on the knob—“Dammit, damn-damn, dammit!”—the door creaked toward her. Sometime between last night and this moment, the landlord pinned a yellow note to the door. Bunny left without reading it, and her zip spun it three full times around the shank. The papery noise clung to her thoughts as she waited for the elevator to arrive.
Joe Mante. 9:06 am. The Armory.
“Here, Reah,” he said, waving a thin envelope. “Take this to that idiot roommate of yours.”
She rolled her eyes impatiently. “Sam’s not an idiot, stop calling him that.”
“If he wants his pay, he’ll answer to whatever I call him.” Joe opened her fingers and placed the envelope thereon. “This is for those butterfly wings he distributed last month. The payment came through.”
Reah weighed the envelope. “Feels light. How much money is in here?”
“More than he deserves.”
“This better be a full grand. Those weren’t ordinary butterfly wings, and you still owe him for seven deliveries in June.”
“Who are you? His mother?”
“His friend.”
“I used big bills. Good enough?”
“How big?” she probed.
“Big."
Brinkley turned razor-sharp at the next block, and their white VW Bug squealed into it. Ra gripped the dash. His knuckles matched the paint job.
“Going to get us there in one piece?” he said. “Or are you absolutely determined to find an asteroid field you can navigate?”
Ra had abandoned his accent, just like that, in the middle of eggs and sausage at McDonald’s. He offered no explanation. 24 hours ago Brinkley had prayed for a break from the British rigmarole. But now she’d be happy to hear one healthy “blimey” from the stupid git. Anything to dispel his post-breakup sulking.
“I don’t see why you get to drive,” he said. “It’s my car.”
“Because you’ve got the all-day meeting at Island Records. I’m the one who needs to be mobile, hence talent ‘scout’ not ‘couch potato.’”
“Couch, couch,” he said. He’d been slipping back into his mellow surfer drawl. In some ways, it was worse. “That reminds me. How’s your motel room?”
“It’s a motel room.”
Ra made a scratchy sound rubbing the fresh stubble on his neck. “Do you sleep alone nowadays?”
“What?”
“You’re a free woman. I can’t expect you to be single forever.”
“We only broke up yesterday, Ra, get a grip.”
“A grip. I tried that, getting a grip. But you slipped away. Slipped uh way.”
They came to a red light. They sat in long, awkward, backbreaking silence. The car, in idle running, made such a whir that Brinkley fantasized about getting out before the light changed so she could adjust the timing screw. She felt vibration through the steel toes of her boots. After a moment, she tightened her silver-studded leather wristbands, cutting off the circulation. It felt good. “Stupid light,” she said. “Turn green.”
The traffic was bad today. Innumerable colors streamed through the intersection.
A pedestrian caught her eye. His shoulders hunched, his hands thrust inside his pockets, he marched into the crosswalk. Golden sunlight bounced off straight hair whipping behind his shoulders. The plastic thread connecting his Walkman and headphones bopped as he passed in front of the car’s sloped hood.
Brinkley and Ra lowered their voices and, in unison, said, “Hansonite.”
“Let’s tag him,” Ra said.
“Get in the back.”
“What for?”
“Will you just get in the back seat?” She began slapping him into compliance. He grumbled into action, getting stuck between the seats. Brinkley leaned into the passenger side and pushed open the door.
“Hey you,” she shouted. “Yeah you. Hansons guy. You like that band The Hansons?”
He pressed STOP on his player, slid the headphones around his neck, and approached. He eyed Brinkley, then Ra in the rear seat. Having deemed the car safe, he bent forward and said, “They’re just called Hanson. No ‘s.’ No ‘the.’”
“Just testing. Hey, you heard that they’re going ska, right?”
“Who hasn’t?”
“Lame, huh?”
“It’s cool, I guess.”
“Exactly. Testing you again. Now I know you’re going to dig this. Guess what I got?” She pressed eject on Ra’s tape deck. “This is a bootleg copy of last month’s jamming sessions. This isn’t even on the Internet yet. Get in. I’ll give you a listen.”
The light turned green.
“Can't. I’m heading downtown,” he said. “Tech Wit is having their grand opening this week. I hear they’re still hiring.”
The Honda behind them beeped once.
“Good,” Brinkley said, sticking her middle finger in the rear-view mirror; the owner of the Honda gawked. “That’s where we’re going. We’ll give you a lift.”
“I don’t know.”
“Come on. New Hanson tape.”
“Maybe.”
“Maybe-maybe not, or maybe-sure?”
“I guess,” he said. He lifted a leg. “But if you guys are Jehovas Witnesses, I’m already Pentecostal.”
Beep. Beep-Beep. Beeeeeeeep!
The crosswalk sign started flashing its little red man. Brinkley put on the gas.
Their guest introduced himself as Kevin.
“You must be a big fan, Kevin,” Brinkley said, skipping second gear and shifting into third. “Got your Hanson shirt on, your Hanson pants, your dyed hair. You’ve got Hanson in that Walkman, don’t you?”
“Jennifer Lopez.”
“She’s good too, she’s good too.”
Ra stuck his neck forward. “I thought you hated Jennifer Lopez,” he said, and Brinkley gave him a wallop with her right hand. He hit the back seat cursing and holding his face. She adjusted her ring so that the Maltese Cross faced up again.
“Ignore him,” Brinkley said to Kevin. “My brother’s spent too much time at the beach. All that sun’s burned his brain.”
“I think you broke my nose,” Ra said into cupped hands.
Kevin nodded. "So. Let’s hear that Hanson tape."
Brinkley took her eyes off the road long enough to smile for him. She showed lots of teeth, let slip an undertone of “oh my god” upon noticing the L-shaped string of juicy, purple zits along the guy’s neck. Still smiling, she said, “First, let’s talk, Handsome.”
Kevin inspected the cassette tape. “This isn’t Hanson,” he said. “This says ‘Vandals.’ You’re a liar.”
"Know what? You’re right. That is my Vandals tape.” She rummaged through her faulty human brain for an idea. She slapped her forehead. “Know what? I forgot Hanson back at the motel room. No problem. We’ll swing by and pick it up.”
“Are you two trying to have sex with me?”
Ra gagged on muffled laughter.
“No,” Brinkley said, contemplating the dreadfulness of Kevin naked. The traffic ahead was slowing for another stoplight. She shifted down to second gear. "No, in fact!” Laughing, she crossed her heart. “We’re not trying to have sex with you. We’re just Isaac fans. Yep. Love that Hanson guy.”
“Name one Hanson song.”
“Well, uh, there was that one, you know. ‘Middle of Nowhere.’”
Ra leaned in. “She means the album Middle of Nowhere.”
“You don’t listen to Hanson,” Kevin said.
“Do too,” she said.
“You listen to sucky garbage.”
“Now why would you want to go ahead and say something so colorful as that, Kevin?”
“You listen to the Vandals.”
They came to a curt stop just short of a black and yellow moped. She took a deep breath, knowing that the best way to get info out of a human was to practice patience and civility.
“I have eclectic tastes,” she said.
“The Vandals suck.”
“I’m sure if you gave them a chance you wouldn’t say that.”
“They’re total wannabes. Even worse, wannabe punks. Who’d want to be punk rock except a total geek? I mean look at your clothes. Act your age.”
“What’s that supposed to mean? I am not old.”
“You look old to me. Talk about early midlife crisis.”
“I’d rather be a punk than a Hanson sheep. We thought you were one of the Hansons when we saw you walking.”
“I’ll take that as a compliment.”
“Well it’s not. We thought you were the stupid one: what's his name, Zach."
"Zach's not stupid."
"Is too."
"Take that back."
"Make me."
Kevin unbuckled his safety belt. “I’m getting out. Thanks for the ride, but you guys suck.”
“Stay put, blondie,” she said, tossing her forearm across his neck.
Ra spoke up. “Does anyone care that my nose is broken?”
“You shut up back there,” Brinkley said. She eyed Kevin’s temples. “Suck, suck? You want to see suck, Kevin? I’ll show you suck like you wouldn’t believe.”
Kevin pushed at her arm, but she wouldn’t budge. “I knew it," he said, gasping. "You want me for sex.”
“I mean to suck the head on your shoulders, retard.”
“What makes you think I’d have sex with someone who dressed like you, anyways?”
The moped revved its single cylinder and accelerated into the intersection. Brinkley stepped on the gas, forcing everyone against their headrests. A second later they bounced forward, free of the thrust.
“Dresses like what, Kev?” she said. "Come on. Say it. I dare ya."
“Like a gutter punk wannabe.”
“That’s it.” Brinkley let go of the steering wheel. “You asked for it.”
“Wah,” Ra shouted, “who’s drivin’?” He reached around the seat and, dripping blood on the apolstery, steered the car through the bike lane. The surrounding traffic hit their horns. The right tire bounced off the curb. An old woman stumbled in her walker.
Brinkley crept her short, sharp nails up Kevin’s scrawny neck. He groped for the door handle, screaming, “Get off me, Tank Girl."
“Tank Girl is blond, do I look blond to you?” Brinkley said. “Don’t ever call me that.”
“Tank Girl, Tank Girl, Tank Girl,” he retorted.
Now he really, really did it. That remark called for much worse than a brain suck.
She climbed into his lap, interlocking their arms and weighing him against the passenger door as the Bug swerved to the left. Ra clambered into the front seat. He steered them out of oncoming traffic. A red KIA squealed against its brakes. They missed it by a door handle. It streaked past the window, and instants later they heard its budget frame crinkling—tin foil against the grill of an 18-wheeler that failed to match its rate of stop.
Kevin cried rape. For a moment Brinkley let up, scanning the city block. “Ra, up there,” she said, “see that? Teen Preen Outlet, pull over.”
“I can’t park there, it’s a fire lane.”
“Park there now.”
The rumble and chatter of the engine rose as he hit the clutch and brake pedals and set the Bug idling at 25 degrees to the curb. Kevin unlocked the door. But that’s what Brinkley wanted. She used the back of her shoulder to bump it open.
“Your comin’ with me, chuckles,” she said. She shoved off with her heels, tumbling with Kevin to the sidewalk. Most unhelpful, Ra lunged for Brinkley’s thigh, still halfway in the car and kicking. He snagged her purple, streaked leotards. They ripped free. The backstay of her boot clunked his already swollen nose, and he shrieked like a killer whale.
She and Kevin struggled for dominance at the base of a fire hydrant, painted by the neighborhood children to look like a Pokěmon. Brinkley elbowed Kevin’s gut to get him to stay down. Panting, she said, “Get moving. Brother dear. If you want. To make. That meeting.” She winked at her human cushion. “Me and Kevin got business in town. Don’t we, Kev?”
“Someone help,” he bellowed. “I’m being kidnapped.”
“Ain’t you cute?”
Pedestrians glanced curiously as they stepped around the quarrel. Cars slowed. Drivers put down their windows. But no one helped poor Kevin, because a girl kicking her boyfriend’s ass was funny. Brinkley rolled to her knees and stood over him.
“Are,” he said, “you going to kill-ill me?”
“Why would I want to kill you? No, you did ‘Tank Girl’ a favor.”
“You’re not Tank Girl. I take it back. You’re too short.”
Brinkley pulled him to his feet, saying, “Ug, heavy. I'll ignore that last remark. No, Kevin, you made me realize I need a new work uniform. Whew! You’re heavy for a beanpole, how much do you weigh?" She backed him into the parking meter a ways up from the hydrant. “A talent scout needs to look the part, right? Right? Of course, I’m right.” She dusted off his sunken chest and slapped him gently on the face. “You just volunteered to help.”
“Help?”
“We’re going shopping. Hanson style.”
His eyes bulged white. He turned his head side to side, both lips trembling. The gall of Kevin to actually regard her as though she weren’t 100% serious.
“Mind your elbow,” she said. “You’re bleeding.”
No harm could come to the starry-eyed woman who chooses to be blind. At least that’s what Bunny used to think. A year ago, Bunny Rutai Aubrey wouldn’t have guessed she’d find herself in this abject state. But that it happened, she could not deny. She couldn’t even move back to Oregon. Her credit card was overloaded.
A string of bells jingled as she closed the door behind her and stood outside the pawn shop. She folded three hundred-dollar bills down to the size of a casino matchbook and made them disappear in the slit between her breasts.
Damn him. Damn Bill for making her ransom off the computer. The Internet had been her oasis in their bizarre relationship. He used to remind her of Chuck Norris in the days when he and Sam were friends. To her disappointment, Bill had gone from a 5’11”, iron-shouldered karate instructor to a bed-ridden ball of femininity, hankering for gross foods, and craving to be pet and cradled. Had she really abandoned the security of marriage to be Bill’s nursemaid? It had gotten to the point where the sound of his flipping channels made her snippy. They should have gotten rid of his cable television, not her computer.
Many a night while Bill slept, she would trigger one muscle at a time, methodically crawling out of bed, so as not to wake him. Once her naked feet hit the carpet, however, she'd be off. Passing through the hall, she turned down the heater, and the rattling stopped. She tightened the knobs of the kitchen sink, eliminating all drips. She rested her brown thighs upon the cold, plastic cushion and pressed the ON button. Silence broke. The hard drive whined, rising in pitch. Bunny held her breath, silently begging for the internal fans to pipe down. She held her breath as the modem dialed up. She muted the speakers, knowing full well it would not quiet the screeching. Her uncovered arms glowed the colors of the monitor.
She met up with her lovers, sometimes DonWanton, sometimes Lance_A_Lot. She filled the living room with mad-tapping and double-clicks. She controlled her gasps and giggles. In no time at all, late became early, and goose pimples dotted her hips, her knees, the backs of her calves. Everyone at Yahoo was always sorry to see her log off. Although fighting exhaustion, she spared a minute to delete the cache and history before regretfully tiptoeing off to bed, a phantom in her gray nightgown. She daintily pulled the covers from the smooth sheets.
Later, she stared with puffy eyes at the eerie square of stars above the looming dawn. The curtains hung motionless around an open window. Bill turned and, smelling of toothpaste, murmured and draped his arm over her body. Holding very still, she consoled herself by pressing fingers and thumb between her legs. Eventually she passed into sleep. More and more, she found herself dreaming of Sam.
10:10 am.
Bunny had hardly slept. Hers was a nightmare state. Everything and everyone looked too bright to be real.
She'd just exchanged two-thirds of her happiness to raise a third of September’s rent. The fold of money had slipped below her boobs. The once-sharp corners had grown damp and, therefore, stopped irritating her skin.
She worked her way through the daytime crowds, swinging their shopping bags and briefcases. Some jerk-o at the stoplight rolled his window down and tossed his empty soda can in the street. Gangsta rap and busy traffic bothered her ears, and the intensely hot sky forced her to pull the sunglasses off her scalp. She scanned the stores.
So far this week, Bunny had turned in applications for Louisiana Belle Starr, Hot Topic, Ross, Woolworth’s, and the Salvation Army. But she left the completed McDonald’s application hanging on the fridge. Maybe she’d turn it in when she hit rock bottom. Which would be soon if Tech Wit wasn’t still hiring.
Bunny stopped outside the window and modeled her body slantwise for the display camera. Her 30” waist came to her live from a 40” Sharp flat screen beside the tripod. Naturally, TV upped the pounds. But nobody ever said anything about TV virtually liposucking an additional ten pounds from all the wrong places. She jostled her chest and frowned as the matchbook of cash plunged to her belly button. Had her blouse not been tucked in, the money would have hit the sidewalk. Those couldn’t be her tits. It had to be the fault of the video; she was bigger than this.
Checking the image again, this time ignoring all but her face, she decided her frown had potential. She ran her tongue around it, making it a damp pout. God help her, the time had come. Bunny took a gulp of hot morning air and wiped her chocolate eyes.
Suddenly she perked up and bounced into Tech Wit.
Her face hit a dam of cold air.
She moved into a wonderland, tempered by giant, whirring A/C units suspended over the four corners of the store. The automatic doors closed behind, cutting her off from the hubbub of downtown. In here, the crispness and pizzazz of an amusement park at opening time sprawled to the left, to the right, forward, and up. An agoraphiliac’s dream job. She rubbed the gooseflesh out of her triceps and began walking quickly. Ten empty checkout lines passed on her left. Muffled FM stereo descended from the silver-plated ceiling, though her ricochet of high heels displaced it as she made a beeline for the far end of the store. Somewhere, maybe outside in the street, or maybe in her jaws, she sensed tremors.
Escalators ran to the second level, and from there to the third. Under the reflective ceiling, Bunny watched her shapely blur darting to the clicks of her stride. She bumped a stock person who was pricing a rack of discount CDs. “Excuse me,” he said, and she twiddled her fingers in acceptance. If she stopped now she’d lose her nerve. She tuned out the lights and machines that shaped each department, and told herself she was good enough, talented enough. She picked up the pace, vanishing in the corporate flair.
Upon reaching the service desk, she insisted that Mr. Dewitt see her, for she, Bunny Aubrey, was the future of this company’s sales department. Or perhaps the stock department. Or any department that might be hiring smart, sexy, minority college graduates. She licked her lips, flipped her hair, and waited for the young man’s response.
***
10:45 am.
Who knew what got into Joe Mante? Who cared? When Reah handed Sam the envelope containing eleven hundred dollars, the thought crossed his mind: he'd seriously misjudged the man. Reah’s explanation, however, had been skeptical: the boss must have gotten laid or something. Normally, Joe was a tightwad from his head to his pocketbook.
Sam fingered through the CD’s while balancing a 36”-long, portable Sony X-Traveler with his free arm. Taped to the corner of the box, the cash-paid receipt fluttered in the breeze of the air conditioning. Tech Wit carried a great selection of everything. Sam picked his CD’s with no more thought than one would give to daisy petals. His stack included Paint Your Wagon, The Wizard of Oz, and of course The Wiz, Cats, War of the Worlds—oo, Hello Dolly!—South Pacific, and then some musical he’d never heard of, and finally Oliver! He situated the unknown musical, Camelot, on top of the stack and used his chin to press them down against the portable stereo. His shoulders ached. He had to get these treasures to the checkout line.
Sam rode down the escalator alone. This was supposed to be a grand opening. So far, he counted two non-employees. Only one register, register five, was lit up. A quarter of the way down, he noticed a man in a red-black vest showing a girl how to work the UPC scanner. Sam watched them lazily, thinking how easy it would be to work retail. He leaned on the handrail as the first floor ascended from below.
The girl appeared to be brand new. A dark-skinned employee. An Asian employee. She looked familiar.
Weird. She looked like Bunny. Sam shifted his package to better see her.
Two thirds the way down, he began squinting. “Impossible.”
No, it couldn’t be. What would be the odds of that?
Could it be her? He wasn’t ready for this.
Yes, it was! It was! “Lordy.”
Her, here? “Please, no.”
Anything but that.
Rock bottom.
The steps flattened, curled away, and Sam stumbled on the forked lip. “Oh my gosh,” he muttered. “She's so beautiful.” He turned and started tiptoeing back up the steps. The steps worked equally quick against him, dragging him down. At this rate, he’d reach the top sometime in November.
He had to get out of this store.
He disembarked and walked frantically from the escalator. In the car stereo department, he abandoned his unpaid-for CD’s and hurried at the door. He propped his box on his shoulder and hid behind it as he passed register five.
The heat and congestion of LA struck him hard as he burst through the automatic doors. Panting, he carefully placed his box side-face-down outside the window display. It made a good stool. He crossed his legs and watched the road as innumerable colors streamed toward the intersection. Nothing seemed real.
Fate had chosen this day to throw water in his face. After all this time, Bunny. Not six months ago he wanted to kill her. He wouldn’t even be in California if it weren’t for her cheating. She deserved to die, but when confronted by her, he only thought to run. So what happened? Where did the rage train go?
On a sidetrack.
The Styrofoam inside the box creaked under his weight. He had to go back in there, say something, prove he wasn’t gutless. He wiped the perspiration from his brow and glanced down the street at a man and his basset trotting this way. And behind them…
“Oh lordy.”
It was a taxi parked along the curb not half a block away to the right. Hesch! Kimmie! It was Hesch and Kimmie, and Hesh had her bent over backward with his tongue down her throat.
Sam leapt up and sited his back toward them. He pretended to find the Tech Wit window display very interesting. A 40” Sharp flat screen televised his flush cheeks and swollen and pink eyeballs. He couldn't stand the sight of himself. He grabbed his stereo and started walking in the direction opposite the taxi cab.
“Hey, kid,” Hesch said. Spotted! “Good to see ya. Come here and share in the news.”
Sam and his stereo ducked into the nearest store. They made for the far corner, the guy's section. The clerk, a young lady with pink hair, gave him an odd look as he busied himself at a rack of clothing. Sam acted natural, sliding the hangers one by one as if engrossed in a quest to find the sweetest deal Teen Preen Outlet had to offer. None of these clothes were his size. The lady went back to reading her magazine.
Just then, the entrance swung open. Two people entered, a girl dragging a teenaged guy, perhaps her younger brother, by the collar of his t-shirt. He was tall, mildly skinny, blond, high-pitched, and very plain. She was the exact opposite of those things. Maybe they were stepsiblings.
They struggled against each other toward the mirrors. “Let’s check me out,” she said. She held his head forward, and he became still. She pointed his face at her boots, then made him look at her ripped stockings, then her tank top. She let go and flipped her thick brown hair. Several green cords slapped her back like seaweed. “You’re the expert, Kevin. Fix it.”
Kevin kept trying to leave, all the while referring to her as "Lady," but she yanked him into submission. Under duress, he showed her a wide selection of garments diametrically opposed to her current outfit. They must have spent twenty miniutes draping her in fashionable trash. Sam watched them the entire time. Finally, they approached the register to pay for their stack of shirts, baggy pants, and hair products. As the clerk morosely pecked at the loud, beeping register, Lady studied her new Hello Kitty purse. She breathed weakly.
“Okay, thanks,” she said as the clerk handed over her bag of purchases. “You have a nice day too.”
Lady dragged Kevin from the store. Then the clerk looked at Sam and said, “Sir, is there anything I can help you with?”
Sam scanned the walls. “No thanks,” he said.
He grabbed his box and left.
Kimmie was right outside to the left! Sam froze. Kimmie held a cigarette absently and stared at the window of a bridal boutique. A smile broke the corner of her lips, but she didn't see Sam.
He used his portable stereo as a shield and started in the other direction, back toward Hesch. They’d managed to sandwich him in the middle of the block. The only other way out was to cross the street. Nobody could defy that insane traffic and live.
He caught up to Kevin and Lady, who were bickering and walking, stopping, yanking, walking and carping. They were destined to move right past Hesch, who was stuffing his face with Pringles. Still shielding his face, Sam ducked low and crept alongside them. In seconds, if he were lucky, he’d pass Hesch, reach the next block, and be free of a very awkward social situation.
Lady slowed. Kevin slowed. Sam slowed. They all stopped. Though less than five yards away, Hesch didn’t notice Sam, thankfully. Sam crouched in place, his eyes closed tightly. He hesitated at the silence between Lady and her brother.
Lady tapped Sam’s box. She said, “Hey, buddy. Hey. You. You hiding from the cops?”
“Shh, no," Sam said.
“So you’re just perma-creepy then?”
"Shh."
“Oh I get it. You’re hunting wabbits.”
Kevin used the distraction to start running, and Lady dropped her TPO bag. “Taxi!” he yelled. “Taxi, help! She’s making me shop! Call the police!”
Hesch froze with the tube of chips tilted over his mouth, crumbs sprinkling down his neck.
“Get back here, big baby,” Lady shouted.
Sam panicked. He crouched and walked like a crab to the right, through a pair of automatic doors. Luckily, with Kevin acting out like that, Hesch didn't notice. Lordy. What in the world was Hesch doing with Kimmie? Was this a nightmare?
Sam set the box on the polished floor and leaned on it. The Styrofoam creaked.
“Sir,” someone said. “Are you all right?”
Sam looked around and saw he was back inside Tech Wit. His stomach flipped.
“May I help you, sir?” the girl said. "Are you—oh Jesus. What? Wham? Sam?”
Yep. It was her. She was, as her nametag asserted, “TW Customer Service Representative / Ms. Aubrey / Trainee.”
Season Two: Aug 6 2005 - Jan 6 2006
Saturday, 20th August 2005 – 6:30pm
Tash stared at the blue dress she'd bought for going out with Victor. It was gorgeous, but she reluctantly put it aside. Way too sexy for this party, she decided. She pulled out her red skirt instead. At least, she thought she did. What she found in her hands was a pair of pants she often wore when hunting. She frowned for a second before putting them back and carefully extracting the red skirt from the wardrobe.
Tash cast a guilty glance over her shoulder, hoping Victor hadn't noticed the slip. Even though last night she hadn't really felt the urge to hunt, this evening she was feeling far more unsettled than normal. She consoled herself with the thought that after the party she should be able to sneak out. Surely Victor would understand - she'd not hunted for two entire nights this week.
Victor was trying to get his tie tied. He had purchased the longest one he could find, but it still looked far too short once he had it fastened around his neck. He glanced over at Tash and saw her reaching into the closet. He stepped away from the mirror and walked across the hall. "I am going to get another shirt that does not need a tie. An Oxford or something. Be right back."
Victor made sure to close Tash's apartment door before he crossed into his office. He closed the office door and locked it from inside. It took a moment of fishing in the drawer to find the tiny box. He opened it and even in the darkness of the unlit office he could see the facets on the ring. More than two carets and pure white, the diamond was expensive and Victor felt it was well worth what he had paid.
He pocketed the ring quickly and tossed the tie over his chair. He checked the clothes he and Tash had found a few days ago. There was a nice white turtleneck in there. Casual, but looks good with a jacket. Victor walked back into Tash's apartment while unbuttoning his shirt.
Tash smoothed the short skirt over the stake and inspected herself in the mirror. Not perfect, but it wasn't glaringly obvious unless you knew what to look for. Two flat vials of holy water fitted neatly into the pockets on the inside of the skirt.
She looked up at Victor's return as she did so, and commented, "You know, normal girls don't sew pockets onto the inside of all their clothes just to hold their holy water." She eyed Victor up and down, "Hmm, you going like that, then?" she asked with a glint in her eye, motioning to his bare torso.
Victor did a little flex for her. "Let’s not scare them all at once. I grabbed this instead." He pulled the shirt over his head and as the long collar stretched, Tash could see the relief map of Victor's horns and inhuman head move through the fabric tube. "There. Classic. Clean. You look good too, may I say."
Tash felt the smile appear on her face at the compliment. "Thanks, love. But, just a little word of warning... don't take your shirt off in public unless everyone around you knows you're a demon."
Victor looked self-conscious for a moment. "Are my spikes showing?"
"Uh, huh... just when you pulled it over your head. And speaking of which, what about your new glamour? Daye'll get a bit of a shock, unless Kate's told her. And I deliberately didn't tell Sorrow. Mind you, I haven't seen him for a couple of days. And I wonder if Kate has mentioned it to Secret Agent Galen?" Tash stopped her musing, her eyes opened wide and her mouth made an 'O'.
She clapped her hand to her mouth, "I forgot - you haven't been around. And I haven't been able to find Sorrow to ask him, either." Her expression turned worried, "I found Galen the other night when I was out. He'd been out of town and had just been dropped off by friends of his."
She rolled her eyes, "In a black helicopter. With no lights."
Victor knotted his brow. "That is bad news. I lost some associates to the 'men in black' in the 50's. That’s why I went back out to Europe."
Victor sat down, "I wonder if he is using Kate to investigate her... or us? Hopefully neither, but the black helicopter guys aren't always good guys."
Victor smiled, "Don't worry about Daye either, I went over to her apartment to deliver the RSVP. She knows, as does her beau Drew. Have you met him? Seems like an intelligent young man."
“Uh, yeah." Tash was momentarily distracted by Victor's change of tack. "Yes, I met him when he picked up Daye after she helped me Tuesday morning." She had to work for a second to shake off the melancholy that was associated with her memories of that awful night.
"But, back to Galen..." she pressed, "I got the feeling that he wasn't completely thrilled with the people he works for. He was broadcasting pretty loudly, too. One thing I'm sure of. He loves Kate deeply. That may be his quandary; perhaps his colleagues want to use her. I also got the name 'Majestic' and something about experiments on demons and vampires." She searched Victor's face for any sign of recognition, but he remained impassive. "Does that name mean anything to you?" she asked anyway.
Victor shook his head. "Nothing comes to mind. But try to keep an eye on him while you are out." He glanced at the clock. "We have a lot of time, care to walk down there?"
Tash slipped her hand beneath Victor's arm. "Lay on, McDuff."
As they strolled down the street towards Bibliophile Tash felt her hands clenching involuntarily from time to time. *Dammit, woman, just relax. Enjoy yourself for a change. You've got a wonderful man... being... by your side. Isn't that enough?*
The walked in silence for a while and Victor could feel an unspoken misunderstanding between them. He was distracted. He was trying to take in something... times, events, and forces that were impossibly huge. And they kept expanding. And that meant he could not focus on Tash's well-being. She had turned inward and had constricted her feelings and thoughts so much she was strangling her life.
They were facing different directions in their lives. The ring felt very heavy in his pocket. He squashed the thought. He thought instead about how his shoes pinched. He thought about how odd the way the fabric of his turtleneck looked right on his torso but not on his head.
The silence stretched between them, growing ever more uncomfortable. Tash could feel the worry rolling off Victor. She closed her eyes to stop the pricking that threatened to turn into tears. *He was so cagey about whether he'd be around after tonight. Maybe he doesn't want...* She squashed the thought before it formed and her hand tightened reflexively again. Had Victor's hand been that of a human, she may well have broken bones.
Victor looked down at his hand. Tash's knuckles were almost white from the effort of squeezing his hand. "Ow?" he said holding up his hand.
Tash stopped walking, jerking Victor to a halt beside her. "Oh, sorry," she said as she released his hand. She stretched her fingers that were starting to cramp a little. She felt she had to say something. "Look, I'm sorry. I'm looking forward to the party, really I am. And I don't want to have another fight with you. The last one killed me." She paused and thought, *Closer to true than you know.* "But," she continued, "I get jittery as it gets darker. And I didn't go out Tuesday night or last night..."
Victor showed a little concern then replaced it with a smile, "I am glad you are all right. I would hate to lose you. I love you. And you are right; this is no place for a fight. Lets just smile, enjoy ourselves, and we can talk about our problems another time."
Victor put his forehead against hers and for a moment there was a connection again. *We can solve any problems together.*
Tense muscles relaxed and a warm glow suffused Tash's body. She smiled broadly at Victor. "You're right. For one evening I can have a good time, enjoy your company and forget about vampires." But the insistent nagging feeling wouldn't quite subside. *And I'll go hunting afterwards,* she placated it.
Tash slid her arm through Victor's again and they resumed their gentle pace towards Bibliophile.
*** Aug 20, 2005 ***
*** Aug 20, 2005 - 2:30pm ***
Alice driving down the road, the wind through her hair, *This is so much better than being cooped up in that stuffy city.*
A sound came from within the car. *I know that sound.* She looked down at the fuel gauge. "SHIT!" Alice pulled over, *Damn, no fuel, now what am I going to do?*
She saw a flash of light from the undergrowth. *I might be in luck - maybe it's another car. If that one goes 'cause this one certainly won't, not now.* Alice crossed the road and into the trees on the other side.
When she found the other car it looked like someone had crashed it. "Hum, this road must be cursed."
Alice moved around to the side of the car.
She was startled to see a man laying in the back of the car.
Alice checked the man to see if he was alive. *Looks like someone dumped a perfectly good white boy,* she couldn't help but think as she checked for a pulse.
Gnarook was searching for more grubs and berries, to feed the unconscious man. He had become good at it after all the months he had been here and actually didn't mind that he may not see his home dimension again. He heard a noise from close by - it sounded like a car pulling over. He had heard cars driving past before but never stopping.
He turned invisible and decided to go check it out. He made his way to the road and spotted the car quite clearly. It was a black convertible. He saw a woman get out of the car and cross the road - and could sense evil in her. *Oh no. She's heading toward my car.*
Alice could hear the handsome man's heart beating, although very slowly. "Well kid, do you end your journey here at the cursed stretch of road or do I see if I can get you to a hospital?"
Alice looked the very attractive man over. "Hmm, hospital," as she shook her head, "but if you tell anyone I'll have to kill you."
Alice looked at the handsome man. "Yes I think I will save you take you to a hospital or something."
Alice kicked out behind her contacting with invisible Gnarook, "But first there's an invisible man I have to deal with!" Gnarook's invisibility faded into his human guise.
Alice looked the attractive Indian over. "Okay Chief, what do you want?" Alice quickly pulled her knife.
"I'm sorry, but I can't let you kill the man. He has made a promise to me." Gnarook flicked his wrist and Alice was sent flying through the air into a tree.
Although Alice hit the tree kinda hard she was able to stop herself from falling. "Ok, Chief. I wasn’t going to kill him, but I'm having a hard time of thinking why I shouldn’t mash you for a bit."
*If I can just get her away from the car for a bit then double back.* Gnarook ran off into the undergrowth.
Alice had a puzzled look on her face. "Okay, wait a second" Alice listened to see how far he ran. "Someone of your apparent power shouldn't be running and hiding. You did throw me up here in the tree. So I'm either missing something, or this is a trap." Alice jumped down out of the tree. "Stay hidden or invisible if you like, but start talking."
Gnarook hid behind a bush, "Just leave the man alone, he is mine, when he wakes he will save us, that is what was written long ago in my world. One will leave and come back with our saviour."
Alice closed he eyes a second "Written? Saviour? Oh no, prophecy. I hate them." Alice looked at the car. "Hun. Your friend looks like he needs some serious medical help." Alice put her knife away. "And by
the sound of his heart he may need it soon."
"You can't fool me. You're evil. You've done evil; I can sense it." Gnarook yelled from behind the bush.
"Yeah. And what’s your point?" Alice looked toward the bushes Gnarook was hiding behind. "Let me ask you a couple things. One," holding up her index finger, "does your prophecy say anything about your saviour here being unconscious or coming back from the dead." Putting a second finger up, "If I'm as evil as you think, why haven’t I killed him or attacked you by now?"
Gnarook was confused. *She's got a point.* He shook his head, *No she's trying to trick me! But she does have a point.* "What can you do that I can't?"
"Well I don’t really know what you can do, but I could look over the guy in the car more. I have studied human anatomy for some years. Maybe I can find what's wrong. "Alice listened for more movement. *Hmm, I think he is alone.* "Or at the very least drive him to a hospital. Can you do that chief?"
*It's a trick. It's got to be a trick.* "What's a hospital?"
*What is a hospital? Hmm.* "A hospital is a place humans go when they are wounded or sick to get help." Alice smiled. "I take it you're not from around here. I'm getting a whole 'you Tarzan, me Jane' vibe here, hun. I've been in this dimension, I'm thinking, longer than you. Look hun, I have my share... ok lots of shares of evil intent. When I looked at your boy here all I wanted was to see how he could... show his gratitude later."
Gnarook stood up. "I'm going to trust you, but try anything funny and you'll be up another tree."
"Ok, why don’t we get into the car and I'll drive us to the hospital?"
"Gnarook. My name is Gnarook." Gnarook took the chance.
"I'm Alice. I'd say good to meet you but I'd be lying."
"Get in. Let's get blonde boy here some help before his good parts turn green too."
"Okay." Gnarook hopped into the car in the driver's side.
"Hehee," Alice smiled, "To be a kid again. Hun. Do you know where you need to drive?"
Gnarook got out and circled to the other side.
Alice got in the driver side and started the car.
...At the Hospital...
"Ok Chief! You can carry him in. Seeing as you don’t trust me."
"Mmm. No, sorry I can not."
"You can't?"
"Just can't, sore arm."
"Ok? Well, I'll get an orderly to get him."
"Orderly?"
"A hospital attendant responsible for cleaning and other non-medical tasks."
"But the man is clean. I cleaned him myself."
"The orderly will carry him into the hospital."
Alice got out of the car and went into the hospital. She came back shortly after with a nurse and two men with a gurney.
"What’s going on? You said 'an' orderly, not three. 'An' usually means one."
"These men are going to help him. Just follow along and be nice."
...Later...
"And you say he's been like this for months?" The doctor looked down at the comatose man with brown gangrene all up his arm and across his chest. *That’s impossible. The gangrene should have reached his
heart.* "Nurse, get Operating Room One ready." *God only knows what I'm going to operate on when I'm there.*
"Okay, you're going to have to stay here." The doctor pointed to some seats and ran off in the other direction.
"Nurse, get some oxygen on that man and get me 1200 mg of Pfizerpen..." The large doors swung shut behind the doctor as he ran alongside the fast moving hospital bed.
A nurse moved over to Alice and Gnarook. "Would one of you like to fill out these forms for me?" the nurse said, handing a clipboard to Gnarook.
Gnarook stared at the gibberish that he had no way of understanding on the paper in front of him. He handed the clipboard to Alice, "Aah, actually I think I should go. I do not feel comfortable here; too many people." With that Gnarook ran off in the direction he had come in.
The nurse called after him, "But sir, the police will want to speak to you!" but it was too late. Gnarook was already long gone out of the hospital.
The nurse turned to Alice. "Well, I suppose you'll have to fill them in."
Alice waved her hands and shook her head. "No way! I'm not filling anything in."
"But miss, you have to or we can't legally treat him..." The nurse looked pleadingly at Alice.
Another nurse came into the room carrying a plastic bag. "These are his personal possessions. He has a necklace on but it seems stuck around his neck or something. We need to know his name so we can label these though."
"Give it here I'll look after it for him."
"Can you please fill out these forms now please!"
"Oh! Ok, give them here."
*Hmm, I'll just give them Joe's details. I don't think he'll be using them.*
She filled out the forms and gave the nurse back the papers. "I think I'll go now."
"But what about the police? They'll want to talk to you when they get here," the nurse said, clearly upset.
"Well that's not my problem. I've got a car I've got to refuel so seeya." And with that Alice left the hospital.
dinner with daye and jess
***** Friday, August 19, early evening *****
Daye bustled about the kitchen, putting the finishing touches on dinner. She had decided on an Indian menu, something that would be comfortable for her English friends and a bit adventurous as well. She had prepared hummus and pita to start. Then that would be followed by an eggplant curry and puffed dough dumplings in a lentil dahl. She had taken the day off and spent the morning cooking and preparing for dinner. Daye had even baked an assortment of sweets and picked up some gourmet coffee to go with her assortment of teas, just in case. After his classes had let out, Drew had come over to help her get ready. He'd helped clean up the house and had been very attentive.
As Daye fidgeted with the dining room table one last time, Drew came up behind her and wrapped his arms around her waist. Daye stiffened momentarily, but then relaxed in his embrace. It was funny how having him touch her seemed so surprising and unexpected lately. Daye sighed, everything had just been crazy lately, but now she felt more herself than she had in a while.
"Everything looks and smells great, baby," he said in her ear. "You should relax. You're so stiff."
Daye sighed. She didn't need him to tell her that. *Just get through the next couple of nights,* she told herself. *Then you can sit down and figure out what’s going on with you and Drew.*
Drew cuddled against Daye for the first time in so long. She seemed less reserved tonight, and he wondered if his mother hadn't been right about her. Maybe he had been taking her for granted. *Well, not anymore,* Drew thought. *I wouldn't want to lose Amanda just because I forgot to make her feel special.*
Smiling, Drew led Amanda into the living room and settled her on the couch beside him. She was smiling softly, looking so happy. Together they sat talking quietly and holding hands until a knock sounded on the front door.
Jess stood with William by her side and Ellie stood behind them looking a little lost and fed up. Jess and Will were dressed smartly but Ellie was just wearing the usual punk deal, except she had made a special effort to wear a tight fitting shirt that could probably pass as smart casual.
The door opened and Daye stood there next to a man Jess presumed was Andrew. “Hello!” Jess said with a smile on her face.
"Hi, Jess," Daye responded. "And Will, hello." She stepped aside to let them enter the apartment. "Welcome," she said, leading them into the living room. Drew shut the door and followed them into the room. Daye turned to him. "Jessica Travers, this is my ... boyfriend, Drew Langley," Daye introduced them. "Drew, this is Jess. We're old friends."
“Hi Drew, it's nice to meet you.” Jess put out her hand to shake which was accepted by Drew. “This is my brother Will, and er… friend Ellie. And Ellie, this is Daye.” Will put out his hand to shake as well, Ellie just gave a polite but forced smiled.
"Please, have a seat," Drew said. "Would you like something to drink? Dinner will be on in a few minutes."
“Thanks.” Jess said as they all took a seat and Drew took orders for drinks.
“So, Amanda, how have you been doing lately?” Will asked.
Daye didn't answer at first. She felt uneasy sitting in a room with William Travers. He was a Watcher, and he took that seriously. Plus, Daye felt awkward. For a while, when she had been a foolish girl back in England, she had harbored a secret crush on the man. Now, the memory of the times she'd watched and wondered made her feel very silly indeed. She had never told anyone how she felt back then, not even Jessica.
"I've been... fine," Daye responded coolly. "Busy, though. The shop keeps me very busy."
Will smiled. “That's good, that you're fine." He paused a second "I hear you have plans to make the shop bigger?”
Daye nodded. "Yes, I'm going to expand. I want to add a restaurant and a small stage and dance floor. I think the Council can make a fortune capitalizing on the University crowd in the evenings. Plus, my chef is wonderful." Daye rose to her feet.
"Excuse me for a moment, please," she said. She left the room, and came back a few moments later carrying a silver serving tray holding pita squares and a big bowl of hummus.
Daye set the tray down on the table. "So, Ellie," she said, addressing the girl, "where do you come from, originally, I mean?"
Ellie looked to Daye. “A pretty small town in Canada.”
Daye noted the girl’s recalcitrance. *Perhaps all teenagers are this closed mouthed,* Daye thought. "Well, what do you think of L.A., then?" Daye asked, trying again to draw the girl out.
She shrugged her shoulders then answered “S’ok.”
Daye looked at Jessica, hoping for a clue. "Ok," she said. "Well."
Daye turned back to Will. Talking with him was preferable to talking to Queen Monosyllable any day. "So, how about you, Will?" she asked. "How are you? And how are you enjoying L.A.?"
“It’s nice. If you ignore the frequent attacks from the creatures of the night. Very different to back home. I think I still prefer to stay in Eng-”
“England, are you kidding?” Ellie burst out “There’s like Watchers galore! You can’t escape the-“ she looked around her from Will to Daye to Jess, receiving a look from her Watcher and William.
“We know how much you dislike Watchers, Ellie but….” Jess said just as Ellie decided the conversation was getting a little boring and started humming an Incubus song in her head.
Daye laughed out loud. She couldn't help herself. "Actually, Ellie," she said conspiratorially, "I know just what you mean. Being that close to 'home base' can be really stifling. I, for one, find it much more interesting having the freedom to stretch my wings a bit. After all, the Watchers don't always know what's best for everyone."
As Daye dropped this loaded statement on the unsuspecting group, a buzzer sounded in the kitchen. Drew, who had been standing near Daye, his hand on her shoulder, broke in. "Uh...sounds like dinner's ready, baby," he said. Dropping a quick kiss on the top of Daye's head, he extricated himself from the sticky conversation and went to put the food on the table.
Daye just watched Jess and Will, waiting for them to comment.
“It isn’t all that bad. We managed to survive our whole lives living there.” Jess looked to Will not wanting him to disrupt the peace, but knowing him after what had Daye said, he would.
Will just stayed seated and looked to Daye, concentrating on her for a second. Some anger was rising up inside him, until he got a quick jab in the arm from Jess. “The directors try their best to make our situation fit for everyone.” He finally answered in as kind a voice as he could with what he felt inside.
Daye saw the anger flare in Will's eyes. She was tempted to fuel it, but decided, for her friend's sake, to let it slide. Rising, she gestured for her guests to follow. "I think Drew has the table all set," she said coolly. "Why don't we all go eat now?"
Daye sat everyone, putting Ellie beside her on the right, and Drew on her other side. Jess sat to Ellie's right, and then Will beside her. That put the two men next to each other, and Will about as far from Daye as she could manage.
*Why did I want to do this?* Daye thought, watching Will settle in discreetly. *That pompous ass thinks the council walks on water. God forbid anyone should disagree with them.*
Daye looked towards Jess, who was obviously still a bit distraught about the tension. She sighed. For the other woman's sake, she would be civil, and steer the conversation clear of England and their mutual pasts.
Drew started serving up dinner. "So, Jess," Daye said pleasantly, "it must be nice for you, having your big brother to visit. You probably really miss your family out here."
Ellie managed to whisper to Daye, “I totally agree with you,” without being heard by anyone else.
“It’s nice. Will’s my only family so it’s nice.” Jess smiled then mouthed “sorry” to Daye to apologize for Will’s actions.
“Yeah,” Will said, still annoyed “She’ll have to come and see me next time.”
Daye grimaced. Why had she ever had a crush on this guy? Well, aside from the fact that he was older than her, and really good looking that is. She smiled fondly at Drew. In comparison, he was a regular wild man, even if he was a mild mannered college professor. Daye settled in to the meal, and the others did so as well, discussing bland topics while they ate. (Except Ellie, who returned to her monosyllabic vocabulary while she scarfed down Daye's home cooking.) Before long, they had finished up.
"Would you like coffee, or tea?" Daye asked, rising smoothly from the table. "I've made some little things for dessert. It's nice out, so maybe we can all go sit on the patio."
“Coffee would be nice, thanks. And that sound great,” Jess said after saying how great the dinner had tasted.
“Ooh, coffee please,” Ellie beamed.
“We have here a coffee addict,” Jess said grinning at Ellie who just gave a look to say “Hey it’s not my fault!”
“I’m fine, thanks,” Will said in a slightly better mood than before which seemed to please Jessica as she was wondering what he’d say next.
Daye shrugged and went into the kitchen. Drew led the others out to the patio, stopping Will as he started out. "Is there something going on between you and Amanda?" he asked, frowning. It bothered him to see his girlfriend unhappy. Especially now, when she was already having so much trouble.
“I, eh- has she told you?” Will said slightly surprised to be stop by drew who seemed to be a pretty decent guy.
"Nothing," Drew replied. "She's never really mentioned you, other than when she was telling me about Jessica. I know they were quite good friends before Amanda left England. I just couldn't help but notice some tension here tonight. Maybe you two need to talk it out. Whatever it is. I think you both care about your sister, and the ... hostility between you isn't likely to make her happy. Besides, Amanda has a lot on her mind right now. She isn't the kind of person who likes to be at odds with anyone. She would probably be happier if you could be friends."
Will considered the thought for a moment. “Yeah. I suppose. For Jess.” Will gave a small smile “Hey, I’m sorry if I ruined your evening.”
Drew shook his head. "It's not like that," he said. "Just talk to her, then I'll be happy."
Drew walked outside, leaving Will waiting in the living room. A few minutes later Daye came out of the kitchen, carrying a tray with mugs and a couple of plates of pastries. She spotted Will standing there alone, and one eyebrow rose quizzically.
"Is something wrong?" she asked, setting the tray on the end table.
“I just wanted to say I’m sorry, for being like that. I shouldn’t have said those things.”
Daye's eyes widened in shock. Was she hearing him right? Had Will just apologized for defending the council?
"I... I don't know what to say," she said. "I shouldn't have said anything against the Council to Ellie. Definitely not in front of you. Sorry."
She paused, watching him carefully. He was still devastatingly good looking, even though she'd long outgrown her crush. "I guess, I just still feel a bit like a child around you," Daye admitted. "You always managed to make me feel tongue tied and foolish without even trying to."
“As long as we can be friends again, it doesn’t matter what we said.” Will raised an eyebrow then grinned, a questioning look on his face.
Daye smiled back, feeling a lot better. "I guess I can handle that," she replied. "As long as we don't discuss the Council, we should be fine, Will. I can't agree with you there, but I don't begrudge you your opinion."
Will nodded solemnly then put out his hand to shake. “A compromise.” A small smile tugged at the corner of his mouth.
"Fair enough," Daye nodded, then she grinned saucily, "and in the spirit of friendship, I'll even share my deepest, darkest secret with you."
Raising an eyebrow Will just said, “Oh yes?”
Daye's smile grew even more wicked. She moved up close to Will, her body nearly brushing his. "All those times when we were younger and I didn't talk to you, you thought I was being stuck up," she said softly. "The truth is, Will, I had a major thing for you. If you'd paid the slightest attention to me, I would have thrown myself at you and worshipped at your feet. Too bad you weren't more perceptive a few years ago."
Daye slid away, grabbing the tray from the end table and leaving Will alone to digest her little bombshell.
Will wandered back outside after Daye, still shocked. *She had to tell me that now, didn’t she?* Once he was outside he saw Daye grinning wickedly at him, the others seated next to each other.
“What’s wrong?” Jess asked him as she saw her brother enter.
Will just shook his head and replied, “Nothing.”
"We've just come to an understanding," Daye broke in, her eyes sparkling merrily at Will. She hoped he knew that she was just joshing him. "Tart, Will?" Daye held the tray up to him.
Will now felt totally uncomfortable and Daye was just trying to make him feel even worse. “I’m er- okay, thanks.”
“Will?” Jess continued to question him on why he was acting strangely. An understanding?”
Daye offered the tray to the others, still smiling wickedly in Will's direction. "We're ... friends, again, Jess," she said, as the other woman took a sweet off the tray. She was about to continue needling them, when the sound of agitated, raised voices drifted up to them from the street.
“That’s good.” Jess said before looking over the balcony form where she sat to see a group of about four people. They had surrounded a couple. “Think we may have a bit of trouble….”
Daye set the tray down and moved quickly over to join her. She saw there were three men and one woman surrounding the couple, who looked to be a pair of college kids on their way home from a date. The group approaching them wore dark clothes, and moved with an arrogant swagger. Daye could see the young man and woman were pretty scared. Then suddenly, something happened to put a whole new spin on the encounter. The girl suddenly screamed in terror and bolted, her date not far behind. The other group laughed maliciously and gave chase.
"Vampires," Daye said grimly, turning to her guests.
“Yay,” Jess said sarcastically, “Wouldn’t be our lives if we didn’t have to go a day without having to fight the forces of evil, would it?” Jess looked to Daye, “Got some stakes?”
"I was trained the same place you were," she replied wryly, leading the group back into her apartment. Drew followed, his mouth agape. "Vampires?" he had paled. "There are vampires down there? And you all are going to go, what, fight them?"
Daye shot a sympathetic smile his way. "Oh, baby, you better stay up here, where it's safe," she said, tying her spell component pouch to her belt, and grabbing her staff.
Drew shook his head once, emphatically. "No way," he said. "I'm not sitting up here like some sort of weak willed coward while you run down there and play Van Helsing," Drew retorted. "Give me one of those." Drew pointed at the pile of stakes Jess and Will were arming themselves with.
Jess looked to Daye, concern covering her face. “I uh, think it would be best if you did stay, Drew. It’s safer that way. Are you guys ready?”
Drew's expression turned mulish. Ignoring Jess, he pushed by and grabbed one of the stakes that lay in a small pile on the couch. He strode over to stand beside Daye, staring her down. "I'm not staying here," he said firmly. Daye sighed. If they left him behind, there was no way to insure he would stay. She would just have to keep an eye on him and make sure he didn't get hurt. "You're going to make this harder on us, you know," she said. "But I won't tell you that you have to stay here. So, I guess we're all ready."
Daye turned and headed out of the apartment, Drew by her side.
“Ellie, you ready?” Jess asked as she began to head out the door.
“Yep.”
“Just be careful.” Ellie nodded and followed after them, a stake in one hand and a spare one she had shoved into her pocket.
They quickly made there way to the street and headed in the direction Daye and Jess had seen the vampires going. In a few moments, they heard the unmistakable sound of someone pleading and crying. A block away from the apartment building, the vampires had cornered their prey in a dark, dirty alley. Daye and Drew rounded the corner, to find the fiends playing with the poor, terror stricken couple.
"Lookie, here, boys," the female vampire was crooning, standing over the shaking couple who huddled together against a cold, stone wall. "They are so sweet to run and get the blood flowing. Mmmmm, so sweet."
The vampire grabbed the young man and easily hoisted him off the ground, pulling his head back amid panicked cries. She bent her head to begin to drink.
Daye grabbed a handful of herbs out of her pouch and rushed forward into the midst of the scene, throwing out her hand and shouting a spell. The vampires turned to her, astonished, as a bright, blinding white light flared in the alley.
Jess, Will and Ellie were hot on the tails of Daye and Drew and arrived quickly at the scene of the vampires.
Despite the vampires' astonished looks one of them piped up to say, “Ooh, looksie, there’s more ‘ere to enjoy da meal.”
Jess saw through the corner of her eye one of the vampires was charging her. She tried to use his force against him and dodged out of the way but wasn’t quick enough. The vampire managed to slam a fist into her stomach, winding her. Jess grabbed for her stomach then began to mutter the words to a spell despite the pain.
Will had engaged in combat with one of the vampires and Ellie was helping him. She knew she couldn’t take a vampire on her own and that she would be of more use helping someone else.
The vampires were surprised by the attack, but welcomed the mayhem. Daye whirled and struck the female with the staff, causing her to drop the young man, and stumble from the blow. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Drew looking everywhere at once.
He seemed to realize Daye was all right, because Drew turned to where Jess was battling one of the vampires, stake raised. He came to stand behind the other woman, who was winded from a blow to the stomach. Daye turned back just in time to take a heavy blow to the cheek from her adversary. It was her turn to stumble, falling to one knee. The vampire took immediate advantage, landing a kick to Daye's midsection. Daye fell back, the vampire leaping upon her. Daye warded her off with the staff and rolled out of the way at the last second.
*Damn!* Jess though as soon as she realized the spell had failed. The vampire lunged once again but got the better of him by kicking his chest. He fell backwards onto the end of Will’s raised stake, missing it by mere millimetres.
Will spun around to see his stake now embedded in the vampire’s chest so he quickly pulled another from his pocket. Ellie continued to grapple with the vampire Will had turned away from but couldn’t prevent him from landing a punch in Will’s face the second Will turned around.
Will felt dizzy but continued to fight, raising the new stake to the vampire's heart while he had the opportunity. The vampire disintegrated and a pile of dust fell to the floor where it had once stood.
Drew was unsure what to do. He charged the vampire that had Will's stake embedded in it. Praying for luck, he plunged his own into the monster's chest, very close to Will's. Drew's stake met its intended target, and the vampire disappeared in a cloud of dust.
Drew bent to retrieve it and spun around, catching sight of Daye still grappling with her foe. As he started towards her, his lover flung something at the vampire and shouted some Latin words. Daye's opponent screamed in shock and rage, as her body became engulfed in flames. In moments, she was a pile of ash on the alley floor. Drew hurried over to Daye, who was panting, blood streaming down from a cut near her lip and her cheekbone reddening and swelling.
Jess saw the flames of the ignited vampire rise in the corner of her eye. Will had moved on to the next vampire Ellie following.
The vamp Jessie was fighting kicked out, but too slowly as Jess managed to catch its leg just before it hit her in the stomach once again. Jess twisted its leg causing it to lose all balance and topple over onto the floor.
Will and Ellie approached just in time to see Jess plunge the stake into the vampire's heart.
Daye had finally caught her breath. She and Drew went over to the young man who was lying on the alley floor. They bent and helped him shakily to his feet. He was staring at them with a mixture of awe and fear on his face. "Are you all right?" Daye asked kindly.
The young man nodded. "Then you should take your girlfriend home," Drew said gruffly. "And be more careful where you wander after dark in this city. You never know what kind of trouble you could run into."
"Y...yes, sir," the boy replied, going over to help his date to her feet. She was shaken up, but otherwise well. The young man watched them for a moment longer. "Thank you, all of you," he finally said, quickly exiting the alley. Daye smiled at Drew, shaking her head. "Well, you've just been initiated."
Drew laughed harshly, tenderly brushing his fingers over the bruise rising on her face. Daye winced, but her eyes grew warm at his touch. "You okay?" she asked, huskily.
Drew nodded. "Yeah, fine," he looked a bit shaken himself. "You do this a lot?"
Daye laughed at his words, wrapping her arms around him and turning back towards home. “So,” she began in a bright tone, “who wants dessert?”
Chuckling, the group made their way back to Daye’s apartment to hopefully finish up the rest of the evening without incident.
just before the big event
***** Saturday, August 20, 2005 around 7 pm *****
Daye sighed, shoving an errant strand of hair out of her face as she placed the last floral centerpiece on the last rented table. The temporary dance floor glimmered in the flickering lights as the band finished moving in their instruments. Everything looked good, perfect really, and Daye was feeling relaxed for the first time in a long while. She glanced up and caught sight of Drew leaning on the doorjamb between the kitchen and the café. He was watching her with a lusty twinkle in his eyes. Drew wore a dust smeared t-shirt and well worn jeans. Daye grinned at him, holding out a hand to beckon him closer. Drew eased himself away from the door and met her at the edge of the dance floor. He couldn’t resist reaching out to loosely loop his arms around her waist.
“It looks great in here, baby,” Drew said, lightly kissing Daye’s upturned mouth. “This is gonna be some party. You should see the spread Josh’s got going in the kitchen.”
Daye nodded, leaning into Drew’s embrace. “This is going to be a really special night,” she said. “I can feel it.”
Daye drew back, giving Drew a once over. “That is if you and I can get home and get cleaned up real quick.”
Drew chuckled, taking in Daye’s sweat stained brow and wild hair. “I guess you might be right,” he said. “I better go now, or I’ll be really late for your shindig.”
Daye frowned severely. “If you’re late, I’ll never forgive you.”
“Never?” Drew repeated. “You sure?” Drew leaned down and captured Daye’s mouth in a long, deep kiss.
“Well,” Daye replied breathlessly, “never say never.”
Drew laughed, squeezed her tight one last time, and finally left the shop. Daye gave Josh and Melissa a few last minute instructions and left herself. She had only an hour to get clean and dressed and ready to host her first big party in L.A.
and the introductions start the party
***** Saturday, August 20, 2005 around 8 pm *****
Daye stood in the center of the room and did one last quick survey of her surroundings. The shop looked wonderful. The shelves had all been moved to the corners and draped with dark cloth. This left a much larger area for the party itself. The usual tables and other furnishings were stuck in the back room, which was incredibly crowded, and that left quite a large open space for the party.
Off to one side, on a slightly raised platform, the band stood. They were still currently warming up. Just next to the platform a temporary wooden floor had been set up for anyone who wanted to dance. The band itself played a nice mix of jazz and blues, and promised Daye that they had some dance type stuff on tap for later in the evening.
At the counter, Hector was setting up to serve drinks, and Melissa was nearby, waiting nervously to take orders. Daye gave her a quick, reassuring smile as she passed by to check on Joshua in the kitchen.
“How’s everything going in here?” she asked him, poking her head into the room. Joshua was standing in front of a large pot, stirring. He glanced up at Daye, his expression pure bliss.
“Things are goin’ fine, Miss Blaise,” he said. “I’ll be ready to bring the appetizers out in a few moments.”
Daye beamed at him. She was feeling so good, much better than the last week or so. The party was going to be a huge success, and she and Drew were really connecting again. All was right with the world.
“Good,” Daye said. “Thank you, Joshua, you’re a genius.”
Daye left the kitchen, smiled jauntily at Hector and positioned herself by the front door. She saw that Melissa had wandered over to the stage and was listening to the band get ready. Strangely enough, the shy young woman appeared to be flirting with the handsome bassist. *That’s good, though,* Daye thought. Then she dismissed them from her mind, as the front door opened and Tash was shoved through it with another, very pretty black woman Daye did not know.
Tash stood sputtering at the closed door for a moment and then turned to Daye. "Did you really invite these two?" she asked Daye bluntly. "And do you realise that one out there," Tash jerked her thumb over her shoulder, "is a vampire?"
Daye was flabbergasted. She had no idea who this young woman was, or who (or what) was still waiting outside. Tash was obviously very perturbed. "Uh... what are you talking about?" Daye asked. She looked at the strange woman. "I'm sorry, who are you?"
Daye's confusion was enough for Tash. No invitation. Fine. She turned and grasped the door handle, thinking, *At least Victor's got all his armour back. She shouldn't have damaged him too much yet.*
Daye grabbed Tash's arm as the other woman opened the door. She was nowhere near as strong as her friend, but she desperately wanted to salvage the party.
"Wait, Tash, please," Daye beseeched her.
Daye turned once again to Chinaka. "Are you Drew's friend?" she hazarded a guess, hoping against hope that she was right. If this was Chinaka, maybe she didn't know her companion was a vampire.
Chinaka backed up from the woman who turned and hurled the question at her. How rude! "Chinaka. And you are?"
Daye sighed in relief. Maybe she could still salvage this thing. "Amanda," she replied. "And I'm sorry if I seemed a bit rude, but my friend here has some violent tendencies towards your friend's type. I just was trying to avoid any bloodshed."
Daye sighed again, muttering, "Just once, I'd like to have a nice bloodshed free get together."
She smiled warmly at Chinaka. "So, let me start again. I'm Amanda Blaise, proprietor of this fine shop and your hostess for the evening. This hot-headed woman here is my friend Natasha, and I imagine her boyfriend Victor is not far behind. Please, get yourself something to drink and listen to the band. I'll handle this other bit and check on you in a minute. You're the first to arrive, but I would bet others will be here shortly, including my tardy boyfriend."
Daye smiled again. She prayed to all the gods that this would iron itself out.
Tash stared incredulously at Daye and hissed as quietly as she could manage under the circumstances, "You knew they were coming? But what about that one out there? She's a vampire, Daye."
Daye turned her faltering smile on Tash. "Ixnay on the ampirevay," she hissed back. "I knew Chinaka was coming, and bringing along someone. Let's not go completely off our rockers just yet, shall we? I'd like to sort this all out as quickly and painlessly as possible."
Daye gestured towards the makeshift bar, where Hector stood, wiping a glass. "Why don't you just have a drink and try to relax, Tash," she suggested. "I'll handle this. You're entirely too tense. Have some fun."
Tash hesitated, torn between choices. "But did you know that this ‘someone’ was going to be a vampire? She's probably just going to wait until we're all drunk and take us one at a time." At Daye's exasperated look, Tash sighed, "OK. Victor's out there checking her out. I'll trust his judgement on this." She moved back from the door and followed Chinaka to the bar.
Daye breathed a sigh of relief when they had gone and turned her attention back to the front door, hoping that there was no violence taking place on the other side. Steeling her resolve, Daye pulled open the door, pasting on a cheery smile for Victor and the woman (vampire?) standing just on the other side.
"Hello, Victor," she said. "And you must be Chinaka's friend." Daye extended her hand bravely. "Welcome, please come in," she continued. “The party is just getting started. Have a drink." Daye flushed at the double meaning of her own words. "I mean... uh... damn!"
Victor and Parasol had been comparing notes about places and times. It was nice to have a multi-centenarian to talk to. He had a good feeling about Parasol, even if she were an ‘unreformed’ vampire. He felt as if she'd be okay.
Parasol took the warm hand of the lovely redhead and chuckled. "I'm not here for mayhem. I heard there'd be food. I heard there'd be dancing."
Daye saw Jess’ new green Land Rover park up the street a bit from Bibliophile and the other woman climbed out. Another woman Daye recognized climbed out from the other side. The two of them started towards the door of the shop. There she noticed Daye standing near the door and smiled. “Hey!”
At the exact same moment, Drew came around the corner. He'd parked in the back alley, a perk one enjoyed when sleeping with the manager. He smiled dazzlingly at Daye as he approached, recognizing absolutely no one else. *It's a good thing I invited Chinaka,* he thought. *That way I won't have to stick so close to Amanda. I won't have to, doesn't mean I won't want to. Damn, I've missed that woman.*
Daye sent a special smile to Drew. He was dressed in casual, black slacks and a black dress shirt, the top couple of buttons undone to reveal a smattering of chest hair. He had tamed his unruly hair and his eyes shone with appreciation as he approached Daye. She felt a warm flush of pride at how handsome her man looked.
Jess and Mantheana had come to the door. Daye smiled at them both. She was so glad to see friends who weren't trying to kill one another. And she was surprised to see Mantheana arriving with Jessica; surprised but pleased. "Hello," she said. "I'm so glad you came."
She turned her full attention on Drew, warming at the appreciation and delight in his eyes. "And you, love," she said, "are late."
Drew blushed. "Yeah, sorry," he said, coming up to slip an arm around her waist. He kissed her thoroughly. "Am I forgiven?"
Daye thought for a moment about the earlier trouble then chuckled. "As long as you keep that up," she replied. "Everyone, please, come on in."
Season Two: Aug 6 2005 - Jan 6 2006
Victor opened the door for Tash and waved to Daye inside who was busy preparing. *We are the first to arrive,* he thought. A huge convertible pulled into the parking spaces in front of the shop. *But others are tight behind us.*
Parasol pulled her baby into one of the spots in front, cut the engine and turned to Chinaka. She wanted to tell her that she didn't think this was such a good idea, but she didn't want to pass up the opportunity to socialize with her.
Things were still a bit uncomfortable between the two of them and Chinaka seemed really excited about meeting new people, especially this Drew guy. Parasol was somewhat grateful Chinaka had asked her to go. But Parasol was old enough to know that sometimes shit hits the fan when there are unknown variables.
"So, are we going in or am I supposed to just sit here and watch you worry?" Chinaka asked as she flung the car door open.
Parasol sighed. "We're going in. Don't slam the car door." Chinaka rolled her eyes and slammed the door. "Slam it again, hear," Parasol cautioned and they walked together toward the entrance of the Bibliophile.
Tash was just about to step through the door before Victor when she felt a shiver run down her spine. A familiar shiver. Her flesh stood out in goose bumps as she turned to see two attractive African women step out of a snazzy car. Except one of them bore the distinctive black aura of an evil bloodsucker. *So much for forgetting about vampires.* Her mind instantly switched to combat mode, and she slipped the stake out of her jacket pocket as the two women approached.
Victor laid a hand on her arm. He gave her a stern look and whispered, "Give her a chance. I can tell you see something, but I have a dark aura too. It’s a party and she's obviously invited."
Parasol saw the couple standing at the door. The woman had out her jaundiced eye glaring at her. *Sure - a party.* She was about two seconds away from turning on her heels and forgetting this noise when Chinaka just barrelled past her, sticking out her hand to the woman.
"Hello there, you two. I'm Chinaka. This is my Auntie Parasol. Drew Langley invited us. Is Drew here yet? Aren't you a good looking guy? What's your name?" and she smiled expectantly at the man. Parasol hung back for a wider view of the tableau and, she suspected, for her life.
Victor took the offered hand and smiled. "My name is Victor, and this is Natasha… Tash. We are close friends of Amanda's. I think we are here before anyone else. Why don’t you ladies go in? I'll be right in.”
Victor ushered Tash somewhat reluctantly into the doorway to make way for Chinaka. He let the door close by itself behind them and turned to face the other woman.
Tash's protests died on her lips as Victor bundled her unceremoniously through the doorway and into Bibliophile. She stared for a moment at the closed door, then turned to Daye. "Did you really invite these two?" she asked Daye bluntly. "And do you realise that one out there," Tash jerked her thumb over her shoulder, "is a vampire?"
Season Two: Aug 6 2005 - Jan 6 2006
Tash stared incredulously at Daye and hissed as quietly as she could manage under the circumstances, "You knew they were coming? But what about that one out there? She's a vampire, Daye."
Daye turned her faltering smile on Tash. "Ixnay on the ampirevay," she hissed back. "I knew Chinaka was coming, and bringing along someone. Let's not go completely off our rockers just yet, shall we? I'd like to sort this all out as quickly and painlessly as possible."
Daye gestured towards the makeshift bar, where Hector stood, wiping a glass. "Why don't you just have a drink and try to relax, Tash," she suggested. "I'll handle this. You're entirely too tense. Have some fun."
Tash hesitated, torn between choices. "But did you know that this ‘someone’ was going to be a vampire? She's probably just going to wait until we're all drunk and take us one at a time." At Daye's exasperated look, Tash sighed, "OK. Victor's out there checking her out. I'll trust his judgement on this." She moved back from the door and followed Chinaka to the bar.
Hector beamed at the two women, "What'll it be, ladies?"
Chinaka linked her arm in Tash's and pulled her toward the bar, whispering in her ear, "Ooh, who's the bartender?"
Tash looked at Chinaka, wondering how long she'd known 'Auntie' Parasol. "No idea, I'm afraid. He's new." She took a deep breath, "Look, I'm sorry if I've caused an upset, but - uh - vampires aren't my favourite people, to put it mildly."
Chinaka looked at Tash incredulously. "I'm not upset. You gotta captain your life, sis. Where's Drew?"
Chinaka saw the question mark on Tash's face. "Listen, I'm not real wild about vampires either, but you can't choose your family. So, really, I'm not upset." And Chinaka looked around the room. "Drew didn't know about Parasol. It's not like it's something I talk about much. He's coming, right?"
Tash smiled at Chinaka's enthusiasm, and hoped she wouldn't throw herself at Drew too hard. The poor man was terribly shy, and Tash wasn't sure how much poaching Daye would put up with. "I'm sure he's coming. Daye seemed to think he was just running late."
Tash turned to the barman and asked for a brandy. Chinaka ordered a Piňa Colada. Once they had their drinks in hand, Chinaka deftly managing to sip around the umbrella in hers, Tash picked up where they'd left off. "So, your 'Auntie' Parasol... what's the story?"
Chinaka looked over the rim of her drink at Tash. She really just wanted to discuss this with Drew, but since everyone at the party seemed to be in the know as far as the netherworld counter culture went and they all seemed to be freaked out by Parasol, so sharing some of it would probably be necessary. Not that she knew all that much. She foolishly hadn't really listened when her parents told her about the whole tragic mulatto thing, and Parasol certainly wasn't much more forthcoming.
Chinaka put her drink down on the bar and thought it best to come clean with this Tash. She kinda reminded Chinaka of Parasol; not really the kind of woman you wanted mad at you.
"My parents told me the whole story, but honestly, Tash, I didn't listen all that well." Chinaka gave her chagrined face. "You want highlights?"
Tash settled herself comfortably, noting the entry of Parasol with Victor, and a couple of other women she hadn't seen before. And Drew. She decided not to draw Chinaka's attention to him just yet - she wanted to find out why this vampire shouldn't be staked.
"Well, I'm curious about her. Most vampires don't maintain contact with their human families once they're turned. Unless it's to eat them." Tash picked up a flare of anxiety from Chinaka. *Well, obviously she's thought about that possibility. Who wouldn't?*
Tash gave Chinaka one of her best reassuring smiles, "So, yeah, highlights will do for now."
Yeah. Chinaka could tell by the smile that this wasn't a chick to be toyed with. But for some reason, she didn't want Parasol shishkabobbed either.
"Highlights - her father was a white plantation owner, made into a vampire by these vampires named Ange-something and Dahlia, I think. I guess her father killed her boyfriend, or something, when he found out she was pregnant... which is probably what my father'd do, too. I mean, it's not like my dad was always around to really notice. He was always working, all the time... never any time for me. Anyway, her dad beat him to death with one of those slave-whip thingies."
Tash was thinking this sounded like prime territory for 'I'm a vampire now and I'm going to take my revenge'. But she resolved to listen further. She nodded for Chinaka to continue.
“Parasol had a baby, and her dad sold it to some traders from Virginia, which is a really pretty state. You ever been there?"
Tash shook her head and Chinaka ploughed on, "Anyway, Parasol found her dad, the Ange-guy and Dahlia eating her mom. And here's the wicked creepy part. She killed her dad. Now this is the part I'm fuzzy on. Mom and Dad didn't tell me, and Parasol won't. Somewhere after they killed her mom, they made Parasol a vampire. I don't get what happened. Anyway, I guess then she and the rest of the slaves of the plantation chased off the Ange-guy and Dahlia. I didn't really listen to that part.
"Auntie Parasol made them all rich, you know. That part I do remember. Everybody. All the slaves left there rich and she freed them long before Emancipation. And she's just been following the family ever since." Chinaka thought better of telling her more. That bit about vampires eating their families hit a little too close to home. "That's about it," and she looked at Tash for a reaction.
Tash mused. "You know, it's what vampires do. That stuff you said was the creepy part, about her father eating her Mum. That's what vampires do." Tash stared across the room at Parasol before turning back to Chinaka. "But what's this about her following the family? And are you sure the stuff about the slaves isn't just a story? Most vamps would have eaten every single one of them." Tash found it very hard to credit that a vampire would behave in the way this Parasol was meant to have.
Something bristled in Chinaka. Okay, she didn't want this Tash chick mad at her, but not at the expense of the veracity of her mom. "Well, I'm rich. My mother's rich. My grandmother was rich. My great grandmother was rich. Parasol's been around me all my life. She was the one who started me painting."
Chinaka lowered her voice so Tash would take what she said seriously. "I don't think my alive and kickin' mother would tell me something that wasn't true; do you?" And Chinaka picked up her drink and gave Tash one of her best reassuring smiles.
Tash winced. Chinaka's aura showed she believed every word she said. "Look, I'm sorry. I really didn't mean to malign your mother. It's just that in my business you can't be too careful. And if it's all true," Tash held up a hand to forestall Chinaka's protest, "I know - but your mother may have been told an exaggeration herself. Stories have a way of changing through the generations." Tash took a deep breath, "If it's all true, then your great-great-however many-grandmother there is very unusual for her kind."
Tash looked at her empty glass and ordered another drink from the bartender. Swirling the ice in the bottom, she sighed. "I've been chasing vampires all my adult life." She fixed Chinaka's eye with her own. "If I'd run into you and Parasol on the street, I'd have pushed you out of the way and tried to dust her, you know. But you must know what she's capable of doing. What it means to be a vampire. How can she care about a family?" The last was spoken almost to herself. Tash had all but forgotten Chinaka was there.
Chinaka's hackles relaxed and pfftted. This woman was not saying anything she hadn't been saying to herself. "Okay, look, I'm new to this stuff. I didn't know what Parasol was until recently. And hey, I've read Interview with the Vampire and Dracula. I'm kinda struggling with the whole demon encased in flesh song and dance. All I can tell you is, and I can't believe I'm saying this, that the demon that's in there has shown me nothing but care.”
Chinaka heard herself say it and looked over to her Auntie. She came into the lion's den to make Chinaka happy. Chinaka got all misty for a hot second with a sudden remembrance of Parasol finger painting with her when she was five. "Tash, she's a demon, all right. She doesn't profess to be anything else." Chinaka put down her empty glass on the bar and vowed to herself to figure this thing out with Parasol.
"But she's the best demon I know," and Chinaka winked at Tash. "And hey, listen, girl. I've been with her in a fight. You better come correct if you're gonna dust her. Now, is Drew here?"
Tash looked over to where she'd seen Drew come in. Victor was moving towards them and she smiled broadly as he approached.
Season Two: Aug 6 2005 - Jan 6 2006
Outside, Victor stepped forward and held out a hand, "Hi, my name is Victor, and you are?"
Parasol didn't want to move. She had a bad feeling about this, but there was something about the man, something kindred. "Parasol. My name is Parasol," and she returned the man's firm grip.
Victor did not want to prolong this much, so he cut right to the chase. He pointed a thumb at himself, "Demon. You?"
"Vampire." *My peeps!!* "Well, they can't be all bad if they invited you. I figure that's your woman and all... Please don't let her stake me until after I get to dance." And Parasol laughed out loud.
Her laugh was infectious and Victor found himself laughing along. "If you are here to enjoy the party then we will all get along. We are an open minded crew, but the paranoia factor among them is high."
"They're paranoid?! Your girl doesn't really need stakes with those eyes."
Victor was very conscious that he didn't blush. He felt as if he wanted to. "They are beautiful, but she has a stink eye that can stay with you for a while." Victor was eager to get back to Tash but he could see she had not yet composed herself on the other side of the door. She was pointing out here and giving Daye a hard time.
Victor hated small talk, but he increasingly found he needed it. "I haven't met you before. Have you been around...uh...LA for long?"
Parasol spent a moment running through the filofax of demons that looked like matinee idols and didn't come up with a one. This only meant that the lovely man before her was an illusion—an illusion that waited for an answer. "This decade - no. But I had a grand old time here in the 40s." Parasol turned her attention to the store door opening and closing; somewhat concerned about what projectile may come flying out from -- Tash? Was that her name? "You?"
Victor smiled at this attractive woman. He felt comfortable around other immortals. There was a bond that superseded good and bad for him. "I just got back about six months ago. Before that it was the Gold Rush."
"Never thought I'd say this to anyone...but before my time!!" Parasol was enormously tickled. Immortality, when it wasn't a burden, was just plain fun. And she had another grand laugh. "Before my time as a vampire that is."
Parasol tilted her head and squinted her eyes at Victor. "Now this is not a pass, not a wholehearted one anyway, but how short is your leash? I ask because I'd like to have coffee sometime and talk history. You game?"
Victor liked this woman; she was no-nonsense as well. "I'd like that. I think once Tash gets past the vampire thing, she might like it too. But even if she doesn't I am always going to go back home so that isn't a problem either."
Parasol nodded, "Demon after my own heart. Good boy."
Victor looked back at Tash. "Don't feel bad," he said over his shoulder, "She threatened to kill me the first time we met too."
Parasol snorted and followed Victor's gaze to Tash who was about two seconds from coming through the door.. "That's a comfort,” Parasol intoned dryly. “Well, this vampire coil is getting weary. I think I might just enter this establishment and cast my fate to the winds -- so to speak. Promise to take care of my niece if Tash stakes me," and Parasol smirked at Victor, walked around him and opened the door.
Season Two: Aug 6 2005 - Jan 6 2006
Victor felt positively ignored at the entrance, but it was hard to get mad at a woman who was entertaining and obviously in love. He gave a polite hug to Daye, shook Drew’s hand and hurried to Tash's side by the bar.
Tash wrapped an arm around Victor's waist and included him in her conversation with Chinaka. She still felt incredibly uneasy about Parasol's presence, but given what Chinaka had said about her, for the moment - for the sake of Daye's party only - Tash was willing to let it ride. But she'd be keeping a close eye on the vampire; that was certain.
She looked over Victor's shoulder at the newcomers. Drew was still entwined with Daye, but she had no idea who the other two women were. One had the bearing of those used to fighting, and the other... the other looked positively regal. And her aura puzzled Tash. It was hard to tell from here, but it looked as though it were shot through with ice-blue.
Tash and Victor approached, and Daye was glad to see that the other woman seemed much more relaxed. As relaxed as a vampire hunter could be in the same room with a vampire, anyway.
"Hi, you two," she said. "You look great. May I introduce Mantheana? These are good friends of mine, Tash and Victor," Daye said to Mantheana, indicating the couple. "I met Mantheana a few months ago, under sort of odd circumstances. I've known Tash and Victor, on the other hand, for quite a while."
Victor looked into the eyes of Mantheana, and nodded to her in a half-bow. There was something there that demanded respect. Royalty was his guess, although why she'd be here in L.A. was a mystery. "My lady, it is a pleasure to meet you. May I inquire as to your place of origin? I have to say something about you has caught my attention."
Victor could feel Tash getting somewhat miffed at Victor's formality. He stood straight, and hugged Tash affectionately.
"Russia, if you must know," replied Mantheana, pleased at meeting someone in the city that had some form of etiquette. "But it vas a long time since I vas last there. Although you're not all together that human yourself, I think…?"
Mantheana stared back at the man with her maroon eyes. There were no physical attributes she could call to memory, but there was something in his scent that was vaguely familiar.
Victor smiled. "Milady, I spent many years in Russia and I miss the old country before the Socialists ruined it. So much tradition and beauty lost in the name of progress. I trust you as familiar with the times as I am?"
"Yes. I vas in Russia; 1819 earliest. Then I've been in and out since 1839. I vasn't there to see Russia fall. I vas so fond of the Czar’s court. Tell me, vhen vere you there last?" Mantheana was surprised to find someone who had actually been to Russia, let alone know about its political status.
Victor spoke to her in Russian, "Come over here and let me offer you a drink while we talk about the old country I remember from 1901."
Tash suddenly felt very left out. *The hell with him,* she thought. The vampire Parasol was at the bar talking to Chinaka. Having greeted everyone so far, Daye had turned her attention to Drew. They seemed... involved. Victor and Mantheana had started walking to the bar, conversing in what sounded like Russian. That left the other newcomer, who was standing near the doorway, looking a little awkward. Tash smiled and held out a hand, "Hi, I'm Tash," she said.
"Hi, I'm Jess," she said as she shook Tash's hand. "I just arrived here in the summer from England."
Just Outside Bibliophile
Galen pulled the car to a stop, glad to have finally got the thing out of impound. Kate tugged her dress back into place and reapplied her lipstick, checking her appearance in the rear view mirror before climbing out of the car into the darkening street outside Bibliophile.
“That was a bad idea, taking the scenic route,” Kate said as she brushed her fingers through her hair. “I’m not sure the suspension will ever be the same in that car again.”
“Yeah, but the scenery was so beautiful,” said Galen grinning as he walked around the car to Kate before taking her hands in his. Kate grinned as Galen drew her close into his arms and kissed her softly, his lips barely brushing against hers. His fingers teasingly trailed along the hem of the satiny fabric of her dress, just grazing the back of her knees.
As they slowly parted Kate smiled, glancing over his shoulder to the shop where the sounds of music and talking could be heard in the street. “Come on,” she said, pulling Galen towards the door. “We’re late.”
Season Two: Aug 6 2005 - Jan 6 2006
Victor spoke to Mantheana in Russian, "Come over here and let me offer you a drink while we talk about the old country I remember from 1901."
Mantheana reminisced, "Yeys… I belief I may haf been there at the very late 1800's. It is hard to pin down a single year amongst all the others." * The old county. She hadn't talked about the old country for ages. *
Victor looked sad for a moment, "You should consider yourself fortunate you were spared the swords of the revolutionaries. It was brutal."
* You certainly killed YOUR share. They were evil, exploiting the workers. It was a different time.*
Victor waved to the bartender then turned to Mantheana, "What can I get for you?"
" Vater, please. I do not think I vill go alcoholic this early in the evening. I stayed clear of Russia until that mess vos cleared up. So sad to see vun's home torn up so badly."
Mantheana sighed. She remembered why she didn't talk about the old country, "Never mind. Things are looking up."
Victor's voice was low and comforting, "The Russian character has always remained constant. The governments come and go, but the people endure."
Victor ordered a glass of wine. He didn't drink at all so he figured he might as well carry it around and look like he was partying.
"It is unusual to find immortals so young. You live alone?" Victor inquired.
"Ah, I vas selected young. But no, I live vith my daughter Maria and of course, the dog. They are all I need. I don't mean to pry, do you live vith Natasha?" Mantheana's smile stayed at its favourite polite, but inquisitive, pose.
*So many new faces,* he thought glancing around the room. *So little food. I should have known any party you'd attend, Victor, would be filled with soulless people. What's the matter with you anyway, afraid to mix with your meals?*
*Not tonight,* Victor thought back. *I'm having fun.*
Victor looked back towards Tash and their eyes met across the room. He smiled at her and she let the smallest curve move her mouth.
"We had been for months. Recently, things have interfered." Victor looked up from his wine, "But tonight that may change."
Victor must have been staring into space because the cold touch of Mantheana's hand against his brought him back to the party.
"I'm sorry, I have been inattentive. I was a long way from the Czar's Court."
"Are not ve all?" Mantheana started to circle her finger around the rim of her water glass. "Tell me do you always think so hard? I haf never seen some vun concentrate so hard on a distant part of space!"
Victor chuckled, "My mind is going three ways at once. Sometimes it is quieter to not think than to think."
Victor was enjoying Mantheana’s company. It was fun to reminisce with someone from another day. Victor had not realized how much he missed the company of immortals. Being around mortals all the time had its downside, not that he would trade their company for the world, but there was one mortal to whom he felt he needed to pay special attention.
Victor stood and bowed over her hand, "Milady, I have very much enjoyed meeting you, please come by Poplar Avenue some afternoon and we can have tea."
"Charmed I am sure. I hope you enjoy the party and… good luck vith Natasha, vot ever it is you are going to pull that you think might make a change." Mantheana smiled and nodded her head in a sort of sitting curtsy.
He excused himself from Mantheana, and drifted back to Tash and the young woman to whom she was speaking. "Sorry, dear, I felt we had to treat her ladyship to some royal treatment. She was telling me about her life here and in Russia."
Season Two: Aug 6 2005 - Jan 6 2006
Tash suddenly felt very left out. *The hell with him,* she thought. The vampire Parasol was at the bar talking to Chinaka. Having greeted everyone so far, Daye had turned her attention to Drew. They seemed... involved. Victor and Mantheana had started walking to the bar, conversing in what sounded like Russian. That left the other newcomer, who was standing near the doorway, looking a little awkward. Tash smiled and held out a hand, "Hi, I'm Tash," she said.
"Hi, I'm Jess," she replied as she shook Tash's hand. "I just arrived here in the summer from England."
Tash surveyed the young woman's aura. A little swirl of blue here and there, but not much. Tash noted Jess' strong grip as she said, "You're a friend of Daye's I take it? From...?" She let the question hang.
Jess looked at the woman for a moment before answering, “The Council. Daye, Kate and I are old friends.”
"You look more the 'doing' type than the 'watching' type, I'd have said," Tash smiled.
“I think you’d be right,” Jess said and smiled back. “Although I do both.” She paused for a minute then continued “What about you?”
Tash stiffened momentarily. But this was a friend of Daye's. And a Watcher. Hell, they probably already had a damn file on her somewhere. She made a wry face for a second at that thought before replying, "I'm freelance, but in much the same business."
She patted the stake nestled at her waist. "I do all right, though I don't have nearly the resources you guys do."
“It does help.” There was silence for a while until Jess spoke again. “When I was a kid I never wanted to do this. It was the last thing I was going to do with my life.”
Although she didn’t know Tash, it settled Jess to get her past out - not all of it, just the bare details. *Plus, Daye trusts her.*
“My family - they got me involved with the Council.”
Tash frowned. There was something unspoken there. "How old were you? If I had a kid it's not the sort of life I'd want for them. Why did they push you like that?"
Tash stopped for a second. "I'm sorry, that just kind of blurted out. Please, don't answer if you don't want to."
Jess smiled wryly back, “No. I don’t mind. It kinda makes it easier if I tell just people. I was eleven… Going to be-" She cut off suddenly. *…the next kid to have my life screwed with and fight the evil the world spewed out.*
The emotional charge from Jess made the unspoken half of her sentence scream in Tash's mind. She blinked, "Oh, Jess. You were a potential Slayer?" Tash shook her head sadly, "I always feel sorry for them. I chose this life - well, sort of - and there are definitely times I envy those girls their speed and strength. But the Slayers don't get any choices. Ever." Tash bit her lip.
She snagged some savoury treats from a tray being passed around and munched into one while Jess looked the tray over.
“Hmmm…” Jess looked back to Tash for a moment. “You heard me… telepathy?”
"Sorry, when something's heavy with emotion it cuts through my barriers... I didn't mean to pry."
Tash licked the pastry crumbs from her fingers, "You should try one of those - they're good," she remarked. "But," she continued in a more serious vein, "obviously you weren't called. Why not change? Do something else if you don't want this?"
“Because I can’t, not now. I have a Slayer to train. She needs someone right now and my parents – let’s just say I don’t like demons.”
"Yeah," Tash agreed quietly, "I know all about that sort of motivation for hunting." She was lost in reflection for a moment before shaking herself. "You said you're training a potential Slayer? What, here in LA?"
“Yeah, I’m going to be here for a while and it’s nearer the girl’s original home than England. The Council thought it’d be best.”
"Look, I don't know just how uptight the Council gets about outsiders and I suppose you've already got access to full training facilities, but if you ever need someplace to train or need a hand with anything, just call me. If you hunt actively, I've grown to know this area pretty well. And we both know damn well that there are times when you come across something that one person can't handle alone."
Tash smiled, "I know we've only just met, but there's a lot of nastiness in this town. In our profession, we need as many friends as we can get."
“Thanks, and the same back to you.” With that Jess pulled a piece of paper and pen out of her bag and quickly wrote down her phone number then handed it to Tash.
Tash carefully folded the paper in half, then tore it along the fold before writing her own number and handing it and the pen back to Jess. Tucking Jess' number into a pocket, Tash caught sight of Victor from the corner of her eye.
“Hmm," she looked up sharply at Jess, "Just one thing - as a general rule vampires are pretty easy to work out, but what's your view on demons? Shoot first and ask questions later, or find out if they're one of the ok ones before blazing away?"
Jess frowned slightly then thought about her answer “If they aren’t trying to kill me or anyone else then there’s time for questioning… most of the time…”
"Ok. I only mentioned it because there's a friend of mine who's not exactly what you'd call human. I was a bit leery of him at first, but he's proved himself to be more decent than most humans I know. I'd just hate for there to be any misunderstandings."
Tash watched the movement from the corner of her eye and grinned, "In fact, I think you're going to meet him in a second."